Misty Chesterfield

The path 'twixt wood and field
filled with mist
and sodden leaves
and yet
within the silence
an echo
of a dream.

Spider's web on teasel
catches the mist
for a spider's bath
among the spikes
while gorse,
thinking of spring
sends yellow pea-flowers
searching for bees.

In the grass
rusted machinery
returns to the earth
while pampas plumes
echo factory smoke
from long ago