Clouds are breaking up now and leisurely sailing north, on the sky a gigantic proud rainbow that makes the mistake of mirroring itself on a shiny cloud and promptly losses its soul to the image, hazes into a blur of pale color and dissipates. You can see the thieving rainbow is a fake it's the wrong way around and when I tells it so it hastily hides behind the mountain range trying to look pretty for people on the other side of it. A dead turtle on the road thrown out of a fast car by someone fed up of having a pet that only ate lettuce and lived wordlessly under the sink.
As enormous clouds drift northward, I wonder if fish see icebergs as we see clouds. 'Look, at that amazing,' cloud!' A poetic cod says. 'It's only chunk of ice,' the practical cod says, it's a big fish, has a degree in marine biology. The poet cod doesn't answer, rapt it doesn't see the net and gets hopelessly stuck in verbs, commas, full stops and archaic words only found in the Oxford thesaurus. The big fish swims, on but looks up and sees cobalt light, as coming from the inside of an iceberg, it finds that 'quite interesting' but refuses to use words like lovely' and worst of all beautiful.
