the textures and colour found on a January afternoon
I stop to take in their beauty
treasures to be found everywhere
Archer knows ...
the leaves that have hung on
and aged so well ...
and the trees ...
bark breaking free ...
a winter's lunch for nearby birds ...
How can you explain
that you need to know
that the trees are still there,
and the hills and the sky?
Anyone knows they are.
How can you say
it is time your pulse responded to another rhythm
the rhythm of the day and the season
instead of the hour and the minute?
No, you cannot explain.
So you walk.