Thursday, 25 December 2014

Christmas morning
three happy jackdaws tear
at chip wrapping

Monday, 22 December 2014

under the blue bridge
the shortest day's last light
meanders into town

Sunday, 21 December 2014

between white vans
at the service station:
skittering wagtails

Thursday, 18 December 2014

December night
the southerly winds
lift my scarf-ends

Tuesday, 16 December 2014


As somebody mentions 'broadsheet',
I'm cast back almost forty years,
to when I'd pounce like our cat
the moment the 'paper appears
in the porch, and open it out
across the hallway, at the scores
from the previous evening's set
of matches. I'd scan the scorers,
attendances and each report;
the movements in the tables; where
my team, Queens Park Rangers, now sit.
And then pyjama'd Dad appears,
impatient for his turn at the sport;
one of those Guardian-readers
Dave Allen pokes fun at: the sort
who ought to be Prime Minister.

Monday, 15 December 2014

the small huddles
outside the job centre
sparkling starlings

Sunday, 14 December 2014

lost in the maze
of Mother's non-sequiturs...
winter skies

Friday, 12 December 2014

                 evening chill
everyone thinks the man collapsed
                   is a drunk

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

weather bomb
the jeweller manoeuvres a ring
from the window display

Tuesday, 9 December 2014

clouds full of rain
the spiral of midges
moves a few feet

Monday, 8 December 2014

waning moon
I feel the chill of night
only in my toes

Sunday, 7 December 2014

in the cafe window
a man in a Santa hat
chomps a sausage...
the sun goes in and out
with the Advent wind

Saturday, 6 December 2014

ambling over mulch towards the moon a raucous rook

Thursday, 4 December 2014

smoking though
I know I shouldn't...
molehill moon

Wednesday, 3 December 2014

sheep in frost
a red tractor rattles
the cattle-grid

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

from the steepness
of the conifered hill:
long-tailed tits