Ash seeds Heisenberg flutters
Birches grow new green hearts
Christmas has come and gone
Dauntless Robins fluff their feathers against remnant Winter chill
Every blade of grass trembles
For all of us who hope for Spring
Grey clouds float above
Herons hunched silently
Inner lives awake from hibernation
Just one leaf can catch the light
Kardashians mean nothing to the skies
Let’s ask who might be in our tree
Maybe the woods listened
No sapling grew in vain
Oaks outlive our everlasting
Perhaps a butterfly will land nearby
Quintessential beautiful fragility
Roots talk to roots (this is the real world wide web)
Slow can be the surest road to travel
Touch the silence and it will touch you
Unchain whatever melodies want to be unchained
Visit the places you had not thought to visit
Why is eternal, waiting for us to ask
X is not the only factor; it marks where mystery begins
Young light has begun to spread
Zen does not need to ask what Zen is

Jake Williams: I’m a writer based in Cumbria (the North remembers!), just south of The Wall and my previous publications include The RPS Journal, The LWS Anthology, Pulsebeat Poetry, Coldmoon Journal, Discourse Journal and To Live Here: a Haiku Anthology (Wee Sparrow Poetry Press).  

I was born in deepest rural Dorset when Marvin Gaye asked what’s going on, in a cottage with Owls in the attic and a serious damp problem. Basically, I was Feral Kid from Mad Max 2 if he’d been a character in a Thomas Hardy novel. The woods and fields were as much my classroom as any of the schools I attended-” I found the poems in the fields and only wrote them down” (John Clare). I’ll always be grateful for the love of nature my rural childhood instilled in me. As well as wandering (and wondering) around the countryside, I love wandering across disciplines as well, seeing how all the different pieces of the creative puzzle fit together.