THE LAST DAY OF ANOTHER HOME HOLIDAY

 I sat on a low stone wall

Watching the blue blood of the azaleas

Spatter on Haworth’s cobbles.




A seamless transparency of rain

Lowering over the turning trees

My thoughts drifting to Claudel’s

‘Five Great Odes’, to the stone marker

To the swathes of heather.


I stood on the moor top

Where the tracks cross

The fellside green

The fellside ochre,

Shifting reflections

Of C?zanne’s last winter.

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