Scribblings – The colours of winter – Where there's a Jill there's a way

All pictures taken around Slaithwaite, West Yorkshire during the last few winters.

I could smear the early sky lilac

as the temperature dips, or pound

charcoal stormcloud with frigid fists

till it blooms livid,

puce-black bruises from slips.

I am the violet stain on lips,

the solid translucence which tricks

the soles and smashes hips,

colours the landscape of my bitter grip:

vermilion drips from the freshly-cut knee,

blue-tinged hoar-frost coating bush

and lawn, or faint aquamarine drifting

against doorhole and gatepost at dawn.

Freezing each field, numbing each tree.

Where there's a Jill there's a way