Another cause for regret

Nearly the end of summer
and I don't have so much as a hint, even,
of a watch-strap mark

Regret

White moon high on blue
a perfect circle in the western sky
and I am sad I did not see it rise
full gold, on black, last night

Vivid

Squelch and splash of violent accident colours
when I unwittingly tread on a well-rotted plum

Waterworks

Mismatched triangular plastic pictograms,
(sandbagged today against the strengthening wind)
preceding clicked-together chunky fencing pieces,
red and blue, with stuck-on stripey tape:
Playmobil for children now grown large.

Practical pleasure

A jug I bought because I liked its pale sienna earthy colour,
the darker circled lines that spoke of how it became,
the proportions of its height to its circumference
and the way the handle fitted fingers, gave a resting place for thumb,
pours just as nicely, as it should.

On the back lawn

Toadstools to begin, alarming orange,

then go black.

A scattering of over-night-grown curses

Half-past seven this evening

Sunset clouds, upswept, like blow-dried hair-sprayed candyfloss

surprisingly, in Thurso

Ochre yellow bookshop, words on slate upon the outside walls
Rankin minus Rebus but subsequently read and found compelling
and Cormac McCarthy’s ‘Blood Meridian’

North of Golspie

Rooks, burnt and blackened paper flakes,
heat-driven upwards
then windswept across the flame gold trees

Heading south towards Grantown-on-Spey

An apprentice piece, a sampler of exuberant, lively clouds
complimenting the yellow-gold scallop-edged dish of hills,
dashed silver with a streak of wet run roads.