As the evening cools br and I go out to water the front garden br watched by the guys br who lounge outside the house opposite br as it opens for its illegal evening business, br looking at me as if I’m expressing br some unnamed insult by my presence br on their turf br br I wonder if they are as awed as I br that as the evening light from the west br glows radiant, boundless, just as the sun disappears, br then slowly pales to dusk, br the reds and crimsons, scarlets, br magentas, madders, vermilions, rose, br infuse with an almost ultra-violet tinge, live new lives, br and glow with the passionate intensity of prayer br in their vibrant evensong as if they know br that colour can outsing br any works of man when lived br on petals that know only innocencebr br Michael Shepherdbr br