There's beauty in this

Portion of stone wall and grey painted fence There's beauty in this:

This fence, this wall.

That's what they're thinking.

She's stopping for something we pass every day;

She sees something we don't and it holds her gaze.

An artist's eye.

She must be an artist.

The elephant's breath tones, the parallel lines, the hints of decay,

We wish we could look at things that way;

To us it's just grey.

The way the sunlight settles across the stone;

She's noticing the shadows, the light and shade.

The tease of green has captured her eye;

She must be an artist.

 

But I'm halfway up a hill

With a bag of potatoes

And a rucksack

And I've just finished exercising.

I  have no choice but to look at the knackered fence,

For I've stopped halfway up a hill

And haven't the strength to lift even my eyes.