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Looking out from the 700 foot contour

rain kissed the barest touch of grey mists

on hills in distant woodland patchwork

each tree reveals hued leaves and buds

different colours mottled vibrancy offered

lime shades of oaks glittering early leaves

glistening Ash buds unseen barely lingering shy

in spring still holds back from false summer days

the Raven in its bowered oak cleft kingdom

unstirred by gusting wind or raindrops frapp

rifled oak bark running hard lined rivulets

in the orchard salmon pink quince glows

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