Poetry by Clare Best

New Year

Winter sun uncovers everything,
seeks you out on the fen,
won't let you alone,
surprises you in a field or by a creek, no secrets then

and when the light's found you the rain pins you down,
salt winds tangle your hair, polish your skin.
Another thing
no mid-distance here,

this flat ground underfoot is all that's near,
far is way over there.
Between can't be seen
until you're right up close or leave it miles behind.