Poems by Lisa Johnston

Country Walk

The heavy clunk of door in frame
Numb hands chafe on rough grain while lock clicks
Then bury them deep into pockets.
weary feet beat the street where blank faces drive
Dead eyed stares replace the full beam glare of headlights.
Yet colour seeps in with each step, tones added to the monochrome
As walls grow into hedgerows, stones and ruts interrupt paving and weeds scramble to greet grey limbs
Great lungfuls of green and gold blast away black and white and feet, like dogs let off the leash, sniff out mud and leaf litter
Hum “follow the mud brick road” as wellies replace ruby slippers
The soft earth yields to tread, stones shift and twigs snap to record the tracks of passers-by
Whilst the feeling floods back into fingers to follow furrows in tree trunks, collect treasures of fallen feathers, oval acorns in crocheted caps and squeeze to test the ripeness of berries
Trees let leaves tumble to create quilted floors and you search to find the perfect yellow, red and amber for your foliage bouquet
Trace the tracks of rain on branches as the damp earthy smell soaks into clothes
Pockets full, walk back in multicolour to repaint white walls and black keys