Saturday, 27 August 2016

First day of husband away.

The soft, delightful pleasure to be had
reading a quiet book
in a near-silent house
which recalls so many memories of young motherhood.

Thursday, 25 August 2016

From my window

Raindrops on the only slightly open window
invisible against the pale blank sky
become silver streaks and saucer-shapes
in contrast to the wine red sycamore beyond.

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #73

First four folk I see today –
a jogger and two dog-walkers
– all wearing pink, like me.
Fourth man, striped spearmint
same colour as the top mine was meant to be.

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Scratched and battered but still in daily use.

Bread board, carving dish
folding metal clothes airer
and two Pyrex lidded casseroles
– wedding presents still in use
in our Golden year.

Monday, 22 August 2016


Splashes of raspberry tea
and several red wine circles
destroy the pristine symmetry
of a pink-squared soapstone chess board.

Saturday, 20 August 2016

From my window

Six foot by two of fine foam wrapping
somersaults along the street
rolling and unrolling in preparation for its maiden voyage
as a magic carpet.
Until a tidy-minded neighbour scoops it up and bins it.

West versus east, forecast versus actuality:

Woken by the horizontal howling
chill slicing the summer pudding of my dream
(eaten warm but ingredients anonymous)
I am surprised by the golden blue of sunrise
when I had anticipated grey rain.

Friday, 19 August 2016

In advance of the Writer's Workshop Festival of Writing

Dreams of arriving late –
wrong place, wrong clothes,
mouth spouting inappropriate opinions –
all symptoms of anxiety I’m unaware of
further infiltrated by the early morning churning of the breadmaker.

Thursday, 18 August 2016

On my way to buy a morning paper #72

Sixteen pristine, two-thirds finished dog-ends
on the path beside the railings round the pub
from which I straightaway concoct
a late-night, muttered, intense and distressed conversation.

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

Breakfast fruit

The cicatrice lace of cantaloupe skin
has me wanting to roll it with ink,
to roll it and print patterned paper 
to cover a notebook.