I took a path I had not ever taken

through this wood 

vestiges of Frost clinging to my memory

as I am back-lit and back warmed

and am called

by crows bent on the re-using of old nests. 

There is still a brown-ness to the world

as shocked from just gone hurricanes

the warmth has not yet unfolded leaves

like summer clothes stored under beds.

The colour wheel of acid hues

overwhelming winter blues,

the vibrant yellows and the greens -

the memory of a spring gone by

of sudden sun and staying put.

I follow pathways of desire

laid down from 2 years walking where we can

and where we will

as every part of Carlisle that could be walked upon

was walked upon.

The pathways that were barely there

are now defined, compressed, 

the ghosts of many feet discovering afresh

what I had known before. 

And I feel the age upon me - we have lost so much-

Are suddenly 2 years older by suprise. 

My feet are slower, body heavier. 

I feel the press of gravity - of the situation

of myself - 

I am marked by lines like pathways

uncovered by unmasking, 

while the world continued. 

And the sparrows scurry into ivy laden tree, 

the crows and crowds revisit ancient haunts, 

frogs lay down their hopes, preserved, 

I see the patterns like cracks in glaze, striations in bark, lines on my hand. 

I feel the sun behind me, 

my shadow long in front.

Write your own poem:

Observe at least five different colours, or five shades of the same colour, and draw inspiration from the close discovery of colour. Are the yellows all the same yellow? Is the yellow the same within the same petal? Really allow yourself to see the variations, and wonder at the small things.