the irrepressible gold of lichen, fresh new-year grass

The days alternate: Vivid, beautiful sunlit ones, When the landscape cannot but be alive; Ones when the grey sky appears to leach All colour from the countryside.

This morning, I cycled through this dead land - Yet here was the irrepressible gold of lichen, The bright burgundy of brambles and, yes, The unnoticed emerald of fresh new-year grass.