Polkerris Poem by Richard Theze

Trees,
Dark, silhouettes
Against a sky at dusk;
Their visual beauty
Almost too great to behold;
The evening air,
Sharp, salt,
Signals winter,
Promises frost;
Shifts,
All but imperceptibly,
Tinged with wood-smoke,
Amidst naked branches.
 
Lanes,
Gravel hard,
Await nature’s argent plate
Disguised, in shadow,
Drift unmindfully;
Traced closely
By hedgerows
And double yellows,
Between hunched cottages,
Towards Polkerris
And the beach
Of my boyhood
Beyond.