The tree is broken,
lichen, green, grey and gold
Cover the barkless branches
There are leaves,
here and there working hard for life
The black horseshoe on the stem,
Mark of where the leaf failed
An ash, stunted by the sea winds
Broken now by a strange illness,
It’s future is shown by the pale grey,
lifeless skeleton lower down the hedgerow
But growing in and around these
Dead and dying is life, an elder seeking
protection from the salt breezes
Lichen, rich and coloured
The warblers rest here,
the swallows seek food alongside
The robin chicks search out the insects.
A hare rich in colour and glory runs past
There is never an end in life,
a pause, a breath, an eternal promise
