Sunday 19 June 2022

 Summers Survivors

It’s that season of mists again.

The season of damp decay,

of naked trees,

of fallen leaves

ready to be walked through,

kicked up,

thrown around,




for prosperity,

for the future.

The season of mists

which blurs the landscape,

as it strives to cover the nakedness

of the trees,

as it hides

the future

which will surely emerge.

Maybe this time

the future

will be orange

like the oaks now,

the summer’s survivors,

the last of the clothed trees,

clothed in orange


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