Saturday, 25 April 2015

ambling home
the drape of wisteria
across a jade facade

Thursday, 23 April 2015

peacock butterfly...
the window-cleaner's quiff
as damp as his chamois

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

spring heat
the busking gospeller
repeats his repertoire

Saturday, 18 April 2015

riverside haze
a bald man spoon-feeds
his bald son

Friday, 17 April 2015

between Dutch barges the pochards' fuschia-lipsticked bills

Sunday, 12 April 2015

my sons pall-bearing...
the sun streams in the colours
of stained-glass windows

Thursday, 9 April 2015

morning heat
the street entertainer dons
a Yoda mask

Wednesday, 8 April 2015

taking their parents' path
through the duckweed:
days-old moorhen chicks

Tuesday, 7 April 2015

the sun on my face...
a moorhen's briefest dive
into Plough Pond

Monday, 6 April 2015

the robin's phrases:
a child's bike bell

Sunday, 5 April 2015

The Blue Gate

Go on; push it open.

I know it looks as though it'll tip off its hinges any minute;
but so, to be fair, do you, and so, for my sins, do I.

Take the winding path through the marram to the East Strand,
past the wind-fed flails of viper's-bugloss.

Leg it barefoot down the dune like a loon.
Keep on going till your toes reach the tide.

It's a path once followed by saints
and more eager lovers than we could ever count.

Feel the water envelop your feet.
Sink them into the eddying sand.

Go on; you know you must.

Saturday, 4 April 2015

between cuts
the stylist reapplies
red lippy

Thursday, 2 April 2015

biting breeze
the grey wagtail hovers
inches above the river

Saturday, 28 March 2015

funeral planning
a brimstone encircles
the holly bush