Thursday, 15 January 2015

From my window

The once south-blowing rectangle
of the green binsack in the tree across the road
has, after four days battling with the elements,
become north-bound three-strand, pennant,
fancy-knotted to the top-most branch.

Sunday, 21 December 2014

From my window as I drink coffee

Skeins of dirty sheep dag clouds
Dry hawthorn undramatic brown
Through which a serrated glimpse of golf club green
To the soundtrack of BSA A 10.

Saturday, 15 November 2014

Fifteenth of the month

Not a quadruplicate of babies' skulls
November coloured
eyes and mouths rehearsing Christmas carols
e’en as they lay, battered in the gutter
but an egg carton, fog-sodden and forlorn

Friday, 24 October 2014

Loaves not fishes

Late-woken from a dream re-formed
from the dough of Thursday’s memories
to red dot flashing of bread machine
and a butter yellow sky.

Monday, 8 September 2014

Low tricks by the sun

Long slender legs extend my arrival in a kitchen where
crumbs are boulders, windows blind with grime
and I wish, not that I was less a slut at housework
but had been more so, while my legs were still that long.


Friday, 5 September 2014

On my way to buy a morning paper #50

Close to the ground:
not an exotic creamy toffee crunch dessert
but once-white, now-dead hydrangeas.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Hamnavoe in Hamnavoe

The rising sun, at half past six
still low enough
to be blotted out
by the ferry passing my pier

Saturday, 23 August 2014

From behind closed curtains in Inverness

Seagull's single bark of surprise
followed by cruel laughter
like he'd discovered his best mate
shagging the barmaid.
The one they'd both agreed last night
was minging.

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

From my office window

Several dozen starlings suddenly alight
for a frenzied twenty seconds' gorge
on scarlet rowan berries.