First published in July 2011

Light fades to a net of muted
colour thrown across the hills, green
of trees subdued, the sea all but
disappeared … only the sun, climbing
downstairs from the sky, keeps its
insolent brightness … glorying in
carnal crimson.

Days between weathers don't
believe in the sovereignty of night,
refuse to wear widows' weeds …
only giving in (for that hour or two
when the sun loses its grip) to a coat
of grizzled-grey … and magic beads
of phosphorescence.

Summer dim is the Shetland phrase for the surreal hours of twilight, mid-May to mid-July, the 'days between weathers'.