Long shadows <br />this bright November morning. <br /> <br />Sun <br />picking out gold pieces <br />hanging <br />among leaves it ‘s burned <br />to earth colours: <br />burnt sienna, ochre, <br />sombre terra verte. <br /> <br />The feathered silver birches <br />and fanned corals of the oaks <br />defined in raw umber <br />by a draughtsman's pen. <br /> <br />A line of poplars. <br />Spare skeletons <br />wearing the tatters of summer's green <br />on gaunt graceful arms <br />raised to the duck-egg sky. <br /> <br />A cloud. <br />Slow-drifting, <br />turns back its dragon head, <br />responding to the spiral winds <br />that play in the high blue spaces <br />where it formed, <br />reforms, <br />changes and transmutes <br />as, earthbound, <br />I drive down the motorway.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/driving-to-southampton/
