The rainbows

How the times past coloured different,
the bright green fertile plains of grass
to the dark brown, almost black
furrows ploughed up earth,

or the red of the roof
tiles laid side by side
in rows planted beeches
the wine in mothers glass

the rainbows

I can not forget the swallows
in black and white
painted on the ground
in their flight

swarmed out in story’s
between clouds populated
in all the shades of grey,
giants and dragons

who silently but certainly
are fainting in my head.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere
04/10/2014