Thursday, 27 February 2014

magpie morning
already magnolia buds
look set to burst

Sunday, 23 February 2014

February dusk—
an eastward flight of ducks
wheels over Kew,
and my son is one day
into his adulthood

Saturday, 22 February 2014

The Cusp

The day you were born,
snow flurried like thoughts.
Aged six or seven,
you drew upon foolscap
a map of the world
as you wanted it to be:
all the borders fudged,
ridges smoothed over,
faultlines filled in. Now
you’re on the cusp
of tracing it for real.


for CJM-P

Friday, 21 February 2014

my morning shadow
stretches much further than
the eucalypt is tall—
a slater has one foot on earth,
one on the second rung

Thursday, 20 February 2014

reading a paper
the cabbie drapes an arm
out the window,
two fingers tapering down
to his cigarette's glow

Wednesday, 19 February 2014

Round the Block

We reckon the gravel track
we're walking on is Tudor.
A collared dove concurs.
But I don't know if Dad
is plodding round at my pace
or I'm keeping step with him.

Tuesday, 18 February 2014

waning gibbous moon...
the slow train runs fast
to make up time

Monday, 17 February 2014

we hear it loud:
the river's gush around
a sunken boat

Saturday, 15 February 2014

on the river wind:
a spectrum of ducks
and all weathers

Friday, 14 February 2014

like scattering tacks:
the forecast record rainfall
on the bus's roof

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

blown sideways
           more rain teems
into the bloated Thames

Monday, 10 February 2014

for seconds between
flood rains: the sunny colours
of market mangoes

Sunday, 9 February 2014

The Cut of Your Jib

When the pain from a broken rib
deepens like loss, they sympathise
with both ears, and puppy-dog eyes:
they all love the cut of your jib.

When your interjected ad lib
cracks up the room, someone reports
they’ve heard you tell that joke before:
most folk like the cut of your jib.

When there’s no more ink in your nib
and your narrative’s all dried up,
some rum bugger’s sold you a pup:
no-one ♥s the cut of your jib.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

almost spring
outside the embassy
plaque polishing

Friday, 7 February 2014

Moonhead

stooping to drink
from the lay-by:
the water goes
right up his nose

Thursday, 6 February 2014

crossing the bridge everyone's hair blows skywards

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

winter rain
the stallholder trims a cauli
with a craft-knife

Tuesday, 4 February 2014

closed celandines
the racing river
eddies as he goes

Sunday, 2 February 2014

Candlemas sunshine clicks along a white picket fence