Winter Edge: Seasons of Childhood (Peak District, Derbyshire) lV—Winter if the world was to end in the middle of a snowy day I am not sure if anyone would notice I mean they would in the middle of real hail or snow pounding and thudding but would they really notice if the blank whiteness of the sky faded into true blankness little by little a shade at a time? sometimes I

Autumn Edge: Seasons of Childhood (Peak District, Derbyshire) lll—Autumn now that the trees are tinder they burn in an un-fiery wind pressing themselves like a woodcut on the sky with their finite corrugations of leaves oddly metallic in this sepia leeched of colour “How parasitic is autumn?” I ask of the dead stream brown and rich and rotting that stands beyond the compass of my eye down into the stagnant pond

Summer Edge: Seasons of Childhood (Peak District, Derbyshire) ll—Summer suddenly the sky blues into lazuli casting us into the fragile heat of this invalid summer crouching on the heated earth we look up at the greened edges spreading themselves fearfully into the light as if hiding from shears the tentative resurrection opens my window lets me rest my legs on the roof the colours like jewels wet and primary black sea

Spring Edge: Seasons of Childhood (Peak District, Derbyshire) l—Spring life holds on in the unpretty straggly way that it does holding its fortress of green against the onslaught of frosts all claws and sharpness these little weeds and then the lichen feeling toward the waning sun survives by inches unable to let go of even a single stick of fur making its own dirt on the rock I told a