Joy likes and not or                                                                                          Eat to eat for all                                                                                            Nettle field green                                                                                      Spider webbed monkey puzzle                                                                      A perfect lawn with brick battlements, five courses high                    Cordons of stout applewood beside artificial green netting                            Two cars placed carelessly and a purposeful man with a frosted plastic bag  of leeks stuck with pale clay soil.

The surface of the earth is dazzling this morning, like a layer of liquid  life. Clinging, hanging, equally repelled and attracted. Anode to cathode of  the intangible sky                                                                                          Pierced by a stellar stigmata bleeding light colour cold heat.

Three deep dark bream flex slowly in the half clear stream below this white  welded footbridge.

Life makes no sense, then it does.

White egrets

Dawn broke fast the colour of grapefruit that my grandfather ate. A white needle forges through dense washed out blue, drifts twists and curls back to vapour. For a second I heard a grassy corner swelling with spring birds singing, a refracting inversion.

Great lakes of the sky chase the globe southeastward dragging in their wake the sounds of grey, a leaky tent to dampen the radiance of a Turner sky. These washed out battleships glow at their evaporating edges then submerge to leave 2 flapping egrets silhouetted in lack of light.

High land

A few flakes fall in puddles lined with grasping ice. The suggestive horizon is sown with white as train carriage F is pushed and pulled past slateless steam sheds.

The verge is loaded with lightness as gorse bows in reverence, fern fans flatten in curtsey unmoved by the wind tunnel snow dust steel on cold steel.

River worn gullies, stooping saplings, broken branches.

Hazy birch tops huddle in rare beef steak smoky slabs of colour slicing through the greenest stone green of wedged conifers pierced by painted leafless larch spires of burnt sienna.

Meringue souffles top mumped grassy meadows. Apricot cast on white, rising above tree tracery. The solid forest stands with arms outstretched for enlightenment, knowledge on darkness. Half grace, half density.

A grubby palette of ochre and white reaches for the cleansing of the sky. This may be the closest that we can get to purity, the surface of the moon but for the clarity of reason. The brightest blue.