indigo blue

Nene  brim full an early morning sunlit spell no high no low  no power to pull.

  Song of the Wheat    Lincolnshire rain  in dyke and in ditch has ruined the wheat and blackened the husk the wheat which said wheat and us us us  wheat wheat wheat  and us us us  stands silent now dark mauve so still mildew and damp spores  and mouldy kernel

Cloud thick white  magenta light and distant now the birds song-sing a muted echoed song