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Thorn snagged in tweeds, worn in imitation of spring
Hands un-gloved to draw blood at the knuckle from
The dew sheathed, sharp iron of the cow gate
I breach the tree line traipsing up field
To set knapsack and tarpaulin at
The Neolithic stone and paint the waking trench lands
Mixing spit with acrylic to capture, by some trick
The rich umber of tilled soil and muted ochres of
Wheat acres cut to stubble
He brush negotiates the camber and undulation
Of cathonic tracks where gun cartridge and
Flint shrapnel glitter unearthed by plough
Meadow frames the canvas
Its boarders clogged by accumulations of leaves
The dregs of winter, margins of biodiversity
Parallels of distance darkening to cobalt
Beyond the valleys green symmetry
Here shouldered against the sarsen
I plot the trajectory of chalk scars
In titanium white
Worn bare by generations of droving
Partitioned by pylon and telegraph pole
The painter is nature’s stenographer
Immersed in a blue coloration of foliage
This hunched, smudge of man
Blurred by polymer, by down land
Dwarfed by spine of woodland and
 Ancient hills.