At the edge of the Forest, a solitary haw sits among the first breaking leaf.

It anchors the season, autumn’s last red held against spring’s first movement, reassurance written into the hedgerow.
Between, winter laid bare.
At the edge of the Forest, a solitary haw sits among the first breaking leaf.

It anchors the season, autumn’s last red held against spring’s first movement, reassurance written into the hedgerow.
Between, winter laid bare.