Sonnet of the Week: Aspects of Earth

One of the pleasures of living in Much Wenlock is that there are many footpaths which lead straight out of the town. You can keep walking the same paths regularly without any sense of boredom, because the changing seasons continually change the appearance of each path.

Paul Francis.

It’s solid ground. The stuff beneath our feet we take for granted, packed in winter’s hold, its surface unaffected by the beat of boots that head for home: hard, barren, cold,  a ghostly pallor. That’s not death, but sleep. Time to get up. Spring light, a shower, drive those tiny stems, like nails; they clutch and creep skywards, between the clods. The land’s alive. Gold glowing corn, a lurid slash of rape invade the shaded subtleties of green as sun and rain fashion the soil’s shape from mud to powder, rock to plasticine. Shifting position, keen to re-arrange her make-up, Mother smiles. She likes a change.




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