Sometimes we see a glint of gold or red
emitted sudden as a warning through
the greening water of the old square tank outside,
an evanescent wink from just beneath
the awning of the lolling lily pad.
Within this viridescent bulk of water pushing
against the stark and square formality of fibreglass,
the teasing crimson twinkle
frees our eyes from what had become
the prison of their gaze in which they were held
unblinking by the flat rigidity
of unremitting quadrilateral form.
Once more a gleam of carmine charms our eyes
into the still, green patina of this exotic liquor –
another world, so far removed
from our dull logic of normality.