Sunday, 8 January 2017
the irrepressible gold of lichen, fresh new-year grass
The days alternate:
Vivid, beautiful sunlit ones,
When the landscape cannot but be alive;
Ones when the grey sky appears to leach
All colour from the countryside.
This morning, I cycled through this dead land -
Yet here was the irrepressible gold of lichen,
The bright burgundy of brambles and, yes,
The unnoticed emerald of fresh new-year grass.
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