IN GRANDEUR
The oak its form in filigree
stands proud against a paynes grey sky
and where its tattooed shadows fall
upon the crunching autumn leaves
now drained of summers chlorophyl
that tumble on the forests floor
on struggling growth of summer grass
and dressed by frost in picotee
as icy winds like sabres cut
the frozen silence of the night
in sentry here the soaring oak
awaits the purple swathes of thyme
that lie beyond the forests edge
when green again bedecks the land.