by Anna Wrigley

I had never seen the colour green
until the Long Mynd moss
lay at my feet in a cold rain,

as if some temperamental goddess
had turned out her jewel-box
here, on this stubbled heath

then set fire to the lot.
And this was what was left:

the just-cooling embers and coals
still on their necklace-strings,
curling like miniature constellations
in a fern-and-heather heaven.