Between white willows and an alder not yet in leaf, the mountain. Between stones in the river, fast water: angles, glints, glissando and slime. Between the boundary and the home ﬁeld always a cold wind. The lie of the land. Between the house and the barn, an echo. Distant voices close by. Between ﬁve white petals and a blue-bloomed fruit, the bitter green nub. Between last evening and this morning, night’s creatures, their spoor. And tufts of small feathers. But between today and tomorrow, possibilities still – between us, we can.
Between, Jane Routh
Design Jack www.designjack.co.uk