Through an avenue, a thin-branched canopy
in mid-March sun, I sense a tear
at a momentary view through the branches
of sudden light on a brown red kite
and a turning twin-prop glinting white.
The canopy ahead, branches entwined,
seems a welcome through the countryside
around horses, bikes and fresh-seeded fields
to distances of mid-green and lime.
Almost wanting to suspend this moment,
we know mourning begins to riddle
threads of life which thrive in their prime.
Better to be here in arboreal winter
than sense an end of summer not yet arrived.
Tag: winter
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White Waltham
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The Cold of Labrador
On this leaf-strewn path of rotting wood,
between backs of houses and the railway line,
splintered oaks lie, stand and enclosea bigger house on pristine grasses,
too open and alone to retreat within
for winter fires to thaw the cold of Labrador
which settled into our bones on the walk.An old Toyota utility vehicle,
white and rusting around the wheel arches,
sinks among maplesas red kites circle through wood smoke
over fallow fields and a distant lock-up
stores future reports.
Wilderspool Causeway 