Where is home ?
We all need to belong -to be anchored in some way.
The colours in the low sun intensify and anchor me in this coal-mined garden.
The hens shine red against the black shed guarded by the one-eyed cat.
The pines in the park are blue needled against the sky
Arches of gold behind.
The arc of the Darren mountain is in shadow
Silver white birch stems shine in the gully
This scruffy woodland a barrier between the cut of road below.
The blue kitchen frames the garden
But there are others opening up
New sight lines
New ideas to be exploited.