Passion burns flames in her strokes
Blood hot red paints pink
Ice as the dolphin she wears
Breaks to the surface gasping
From the thrill of diving so deep.

Water still as a mirror
Reflects horizons as clouds full of thunder
Mountains white tips seeking Sun
Icebergs with their depths in the dark.

There see!
Beauty in her sadness she swears ugly
There! 
Joy in her madness she feels sane
Feared of losing either if shown.

In the smoke from her cheroot
She paints herself blue
And shows truth in the balance she finds

The plains beckon 
Where the water falls
Warm to her skin
And the bulls bellow and afternoon sleep 
Breeds mellow

Still the mountains stream runs 
Cold from the North
Where the water falls out of white sky
And home is a place she does not know.

Caught in between 
She is neither child yet full
Of steep valleys and waterfalls
Vigour of youth,
Nor old 
With flood plain, meander and ox-bow.

Does her Armada arrive by the stream
To ensure safe passage
Or to find she has found her way home

The clock ticks a beat out of time
With her metronome heart
Too slow for her passion
Too fast for the world she has known
Winters gone seem an age ago
Glimpses of summer Sun just a snap away.