I saw the poplars bend 
against the wind 
a line of noble archers 
bows drawn full 
armed in tension 
sapling-spring muscles
waiting to be loosed
against the pale sky
where are the arrows
of these pallid efforts?
an unarmed resistance
wages war against
an invisible enemy
leaves fall to the ground
a mosaic of coloured flags
upon a bed of cold earth
the war of hues ends
after the colours
have bled dry;
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust

© Christopher Raine