Fuel

A splash of petrol on the rain soaked tarmac
becomes an iridescent starburst in the middle of the road

daughters again (again)

ahead of me down the street
sturdy winter boots and long fluttering coats
one aged leather
the other purple velvet

(more daughters)

eleven thirty

watching the gold threads in the curtains
while sleep drifts me away

Sunday morning parcel

two muffled voices within 
argue about opening the door
so I leave the box on the step

Rain again

the quiet darkness of the Princess Road underpass is a momentary relief
from the incessant pitter patter 

Shadow

A long lean shadow trudges wearily ahead of me down Beaver Road

poetic puddles

Inky black pools frozen in pavement crevices
surrounded by delicately frosted fallen leaves

Braving the frost

On a sunny window ledge there are strawberry plants in flower
a couple of tiny green buds promise a tantalising hint of summer sweetness

sunrise

a hazy pink stripe across the frosted bathroom window indicates that day has arrived

university challenge

the three classics students turn and look expectantly along the row
to the blue jumpered physicist at the end

train

"The 19.17 to Manchester Piccadilly is now boarding at platform 16."
Not so much a tidal wave, more a rip-tide, of wheeled baggage evacuates the concourse 
and flows down the corridor to the gate.

In Starbucks

Cosy and smug in the leather armchair
relishing the autumn sunshine 
a vague ghostly shadow of the heat haze 
drifts over the page of my book

End of September

Looking across Fog Lane park, in amongst the dull green trees 
bright red flames of autumn lick around the edge of an insignificant oak

Frown

I concentrate fiercely on writing 
and when I glance up into the mirror opposite the bed my father's frown looks back at me.

Jupiter

At 6am the air is so cold my skin prickles and my fingertips ache but there is Jupiter, shining alone in a perfect dark blue sky. 

Gnome

He steps out of the undergrowth
small and rotund with a bushy moustache and spiky hair

Fox

Scrawny and emaciated with sores on its hip bones and mangy fur, a tiny fox trots out from behind a house on Barlow Moor Road. It pauses momentarily then retreats to the garden until it thinks I have gone.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Carnage

heaps of disembowelled and desiccated bodies are strewn along the path
late arrivals feast on the remains
the trail of tiny blue poisonous pellets leads all the way to the back door

(Slugs and snails seem to be becoming a regular theme here)

tarmac

a blast of heat wafts up at me as if from an opened oven door
but the smell is the acrid tang of newly laid tarmac

Baby carriage

Whilst the yummy mummies are gathering outside Café Nero with their trendy three wheeler pushchairs, down along Dene road a little boy with a bright red sweater peers regally out around the hood of his coach built Silver Cross pram pushed by his granny.

Dead thing

The magpies gather, pecking at a carcass surrounded by floating white down
... but it is merely a stuffed toy, eviscerated by the passing council mower.

Snails 2

Do they have a destination in mind ...
or are they just going for a slither in the rain?

Snails 1

the small delicate yellow spiral soldiers on alone
leaving his crushed comrade behind

dew

Tiny pearls of dew shine in the low early sun ... reminding me the grass needs cutting

Sign of the times

Young man with a plastic shopping bag walks along (apparently) talking to himself.

More cats

Watching my arrival and departure impassively, one black and white cat and one white and black cat crouch in the lush damp grass.

Blackbird

He eyes me suspiciously from the path, fearful I will steal his worm.

He tosses it around for a moment then gobbles it down with a swift flick of his head.

Frost

in the frosty morning sunshine

steam rises from the edge of fence panels

and the playing field is patched

green and white where the tree shadows fall

chilly knees

a mustard waistcoat and shorts

perfect attire for a frosty February day

Durham Cathedral from the viaduct

5.20pm and the softly lit colossal building floats eerily

in the darkness above the city

twilight

jupiter and venus, the only lights in a clear sky

7.15am

a perfect half moon

in a perfect clear midnight blue sky

frost

frost on the grass

makes even our bedraggled and scruffy garden

beautiful

monday letterboxes

inverse proportions:

the larger the house

the smaller the letterbox

togetherness

the only sound in the room

is the clicking of two computer trackpads

café

two middle aged men in the M&S café

simultaneously fidget with their cups and watch for their wives

More Rain

an abrupt downpour reverberates ominously on the roof light

like an executioner's drumroll