WIND VERSUS SUN from A Year of Dreams The hand on the field is a shiver of sunlight: the brittle-backed land is a spectre of life. Closed in a nightshell, it hears the long fingersteps whisper of whiteness, feels the bunched palms on its eyelids of grass. Wind is a whiplash, astringent with power – a crab apple fear in a frostbitten bone. Sun protests steadily, wrests from the wizened field seedlings of gold. Copyright © JENNY JOHNSON