When the
path dissolves into marsh
a trapped
nerve and stiff muscles refuse
the usual
upward slopes
forcing me
to stop. Stand still.
A crow stuck
on the wind pulls my attention
into the sky
then down to the horizon
cutting off
the blue.
I was
heading for the sea
as all the
flowers are gone, the dunes down
to shades of
green, but now I see
what greens!
Dappled and striped
by sun and
shadows. As I look
tiny vivid
stars, lime bright,
open in the spaces,
between layers
of emerald
and sage grey, some fading
some
unfastening. Everywhere is
becoming
more of itself in my eyes
Ainsdale 10th November
