Paint can in hand, up the ladder
with brush and cheer, slapping coat
after coat all across that splintered
wooden facia. Brown turns blue and
the dabbing ceases, locked statuesque
the colour bleeds into his eyes,
swirling patterns of cerulean, teal
and murky ocean water overtake his
senses as he drops implements.

He leans backward, letting fingers
extend, their grip on rung gone,
his body scooped up by gravity’s
caress as stillness becomes speed,
no safety net nor cushion lay at
the end of this climb, and back hits,
spine to rock, splitting the inside
outwards, calmly washed away.

Clouds pass above, gentle wisps
of light fluff saunter unawares,
as broken frame stays close to
ground, open and closing the
lids reveal red lightning, strewn
across milky white plains, no
senses left to understand, nor
reveal answers, a simple case
of zephyr and loss.