Saturday, 28 February 2015

Friday, 20 February 2015

On my way to buy a morning paper #52

Click of gate ahead of me. 
Man emerges, three squat, fluffy dogs on Karma Chameleon leads (red, gold and green)
In his other hand, a mug of tea.

Friday, 6 February 2015

Grey beads on brown

Birds like beads on the ends of up-turned braids
scatter in an instant, circle and resettle
at the sound of some invisible alarm.

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.