December 2014

The woods are lovely, dark and deep…

Holly’s splayed, white limbs
hold back the dark with curled claws.
A pale owl slips out.



Most colour leached out by now, but, oh, by no means all…

Fern oxidizes,
beeches rust beautifully.
Grey days have colour.



Darkest evenings of the year….

Myrtles’ glow-stick bark
shines in the dark undergrowth.
An oak leaf lets go.



Must be fierce weather on the Continent: the redwings are here already and in force, filling the woods with commotion…

Hollies all agog,
Trees vibrate with hungry birds.
Ground, berry-measled.


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