A Hazel in January
rounding winter's grey corner I'm sprayed in the face with paint yellow points splatter my retinas and then drip drops trailing vertical paths like a thousand star speckled wagtails bursting out of the sun so impossibly bright tassels rind of lime as tinsel a burning hazel bush that sears everything around it its catkins strung between earthed dull gravity and a skyfull of living things wanting to live ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It may well sound like I'm going way over the top about this catkin festooned hazel. But it stopped me in my tracks. This gets me every year - but miraculously more so every year. I doubt that I'd have been more moved by seeing the Mona Lisa. I'll even admit to welling up a bit. It just seemed to have every spring I've ever seen encapsulated in those early January catkins. Just spring coming round again, nature doing its thing, without fuss of fanfare (except from me!), and life wanting to li