Cadmium fields

Spring has come late to Mickley,

under cover of beech, bluebells populate,

tease the edges of the foothpath.

A fat toad hops under a damp leaf,

Chaffinch chaffinch and squirel chase

up up around the ancient trees

into the unseen

Beyond the wood

the hawthorn reigns,

and somewhere a river

where the trout are rising.

In the wild grass

that grows long past my knees-

the blue of cornflowers

the red of poppies.

All else is buttercups;

the cadmium fields,

a simple sky 

and the sweet chewed smell of clover