I took a path I had not ever taken
through this wood 
vestiges of Frost clinging to my memory
as I am back-lit and back warmed
and am called
by crows bent on the re-using of old nests. 
There is still a brown-ness to the world
as shocked from just gone hurricanes
the warmth has not yet unfolded leaves
like summer clothes stored under beds.
The colour wheel of acid hues
overwhelming winter blues,
the vibrant yellows and the greens -
the memory of a spring gone by
of sudden sun and staying put.
I follow pathways of desire
laid down from 2 years walking where we can
and where we will
as every part of Carlisle that could be walked upon
was walked upon.
The pathways that were barely there
are now defined, compressed, 
the ghosts of many feet discovering afresh
what I had known before. 
And I feel the age upon me - we have lost so much-
Are suddenly 2 years older by suprise. 
My feet are slower, body heavier. 
I feel the press of gravity - of the situation
of myself - 
I am marked by lines like pathways
uncovered by unmasking, 
while the world continued. 
And the sparrows scurry into ivy laden tree, 
the crows and crowds revisit ancient haunts, 
frogs lay down their hopes, preserved, 
I see the patterns like cracks in glaze, striations in bark, lines on my hand. 
I feel the sun behind me, 
my shadow long in front.

Write your own poem:

Observe at least five different colours, or five shades of the same colour, and draw inspiration from the close discovery of colour. Are the yellows all the same yellow? Is the yellow the same within the same petal? Really allow yourself to see the variations, and wonder at the small things.