Green hills

Call green hills grey swathes
of white silence from lilac skies
Orange light turns silver, dies.

Dark Wind packs cold
in spaces by trunks
where small creatures hide.
Larger creatures huddle by walls,
or find their peace with frozen earth.

Grey turns to black.
Later silver returns, then gold,
then blue, and white glistens.
The hills shine winter.




Glimpses of Wessex

© Paul McCombie 2005-6