I was out and about before the sun was up this morning and rushing off to the station.
That meant I didn’t have my good camera with me – it’s too heavy for general use – and I didn’t really pause to frame and focus, so the pictures I took of the misty morning in the park are not worth the pixels they’d take to display nor the bytes they need for keeping.
But although the photo above is a little fuzzy and a little dark, it reminds me of the actual sky, which did quite nicely illustrate that elusive shade sky-blue pink as I have always imagined it.
In my childhood, the colour was frequently embellished with purple dots on.
I haven’t managed to find a photo to illustrate that, exactly, but the cables in this one, taken one evening a few weeks ago could, perhaps, justify the description of sky-blue pink with purple stripes.
This poem was written in early spring, I think, but it still seems to be relatively apt.
I stumble downhill
to the bus stop. It seems
the sun and I both overslept today.
I turn the corner as
tousled and blustering
he tumbles back the clouds
to blush apologies for his delay.