Larches, late April
Today I looked up along the ridge
and the larches were green,
solid forms, no longer impressions
or yesterday’s haze on see-through branches.
Pale orange has become vivid chartreuse,
incongruous with the just budding landscape,
only blushing viridescent on still-rouged sticks.
Under gorse and hawthorn thickets
in scattered shade of larger trees
congregate masses of shiny bluebell leaves
and ferns with leading fronds half-unfurled.
Secret places still untouched by bracken’s overtake
crisscrossed with fallen branches and boulders
harbouring wildflowers and micro clearings within.
Low stone walls emerge from the ground
here and there, footings from long forgotten
dwelling places, traces of past lives
now resting shelters for deer.