I puzzle over the picture I see.

Landscape, skyscape,

It's all just grey to me.

Forget rolling fields of wheat,

Or blue as a backdrop

For white sheets of cloud.

Think: cement,

Depression era design.

Dishwater grey was all the rage

Back then.

-

A grove of shrubbery cowers pathetically,

Shadowed by the shadows of

Baby giants.

Their mama's are mistaken

For the greying sky.

(Easy mistake to make

In England's perpetual misery)

-

Ah! At last, colour.

But no.

Just another pit stop for obesity.

No beauty here.

Still, a respite from the mundane,

But in such an array

Of chemicals, grease and questionable meats,

That I'm not convinced.

-

So what am I looking at?

An artist's rendition of hopelessness

The effects of the earth's mutilation.

No. This is life.

The greyscape composition.