...and to end the year, some oddity from the great man that is Jarvis Cocker, with, erm, Jonny Wilkinson - as you do. Happy New Year and all that malarkey.

New Year's Eve
the heron's head moves
not an inch

Continental Drift

If we are landscapes, as undoubtedly
we are, then my chalkhilled, southerly coast
would ease, all ways, between the promontories,
in the Baltic bay of your uppermost
north. Such busy, deep and well-mapped waters,
not wide, but immeasurably perilous,
have, for too long, served to separate us,
as if our junction were not serious;
yet, you and I know that our tilting sands
would shelve, unstoppably, for anyone else,
while tangent for us, as neighbouring lands,
bestrewn with amber, bladderwrack and dulse.

There's a seasonal haiku of mine on Curtis Dunlap's excellent blog.

on the mosque dome
the green paint all but gone
midwinter sun

- Presence

...And as they no doubt still say in The Beano... Merry Christmas to all my readers!

Happy news: I'm delighted to say that Wing Beats has been selected as one of The Guardian's nature books of the year.

at the point
where the river
turns tidal
the undercurrents
slowly surface

bus window wiped
with the back of a glove
seasonal lights

- The Regulars

There are pictures of John Barlow's and my recent events/readings on the Wing Beats website.

Christmas Puddings

The last surviving member of his family-branch
tells the listening cashier how he mustn't purchase
Christmas puddings this year,
as there would only be him to whip and lather on
the brandy butter, the whisky and cream, and eat them.

freezing hoofprints
a culvert leading
who knows where

Venus and Jupiter
the barechested fire-eater
taunts his crowd