by Jenny Potter

Smudges of neon watercolour stain
The powder blue of the heavens.
Towering stems slash at bare shins,
Marking pink, criss-crossed fire
Across epidermal brickwork.

Fields dusted with poisoned petals
Glow yellow in the waning sun.
Rich greenery shrouds footed clay
Leading through lush summer growth

To trees of suitability: tall, spindly, straight
And curved by some forgotten force –
A ceremonial graveyard.

Final rays claw across horizons,
Bleaching the world in one last effort…
Cool night’s breath whispers its presence
And branches whip at retreating cheeks.