Through a window pane in Worcester,
a scene Cezanne might have have painted,
sky of cornflower blue, Pyrenees replaced
by pale violet band of Malvern hills.
Trees, fifteen shades of green, surround
higgedly piggedly, sugar cube houses,
burnt sienna rooves jostle with
sun smeared, off white walls.
Emerald swarth of a rugby pitch
(this is not a football town)
draws the panorama to the
sleep kissed morning eye.
Neil Crawford
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dawn-notes/
