Smile

The bright curve of the waning moon smiles at me from the bare branches 
like the disappearing Cheshire Cat 

Saturday morning

Daughters out with their daddies;
they bring bikes with tassels, 
companionable teddies and yellow balloons.

Queue

A disconsolate line drapes itself over the railing 
that leads to the callers office door.
They are still there when I walk back four hours later.

postcard

I've found a country where it's acceptable to eat a whole plate of hummus, more than once a day. I think I'm never coming home. 
(Postcard from Jerusalem)

Lavender

up and down the paths I brush against the lavender bushes
and carry the traces with me on my skin

Missing Jacob

his name on the back of a postcard
in a child's handwriting
somehow just the way he used to write it

kettles

seven kettles 
in various stages of decay
lined up against the fence
like memorials 
to all those moments
when a cup of tea 
was all you needed

late start

at 6 am cycle path users acknowledge the early hour with a brief nod
by seven thirty it's business as usual and no one meets your eye

Rain

A blackbird makes vociferous objection
to a sudden downpour.

gravity

as I waft the empty bag
infinitesimally tiny grains of flour float out
and drift down into the brass bowl of the weighing scales

ducks

all the other wildlife
skitters or flutters from my path
three ducks sit
unflustered and unperturbed

more snails

on damp mornings
I do a wide slalom along the path
to avoid the meandering snails

street lights

the street lights ahead of me switch off in sequence
fading to a faint orange glow

spring

purple crocuses bask in the warm morning sunshine

(or is that croci?)

cold

I button up tight 
but the icy gust 
inveigles it's way inside my coat

daughters tango

skirts swish to the rhythm
they sashay down the hall

more cat

a black and white sphinx guards the entrance
to Cheltenham road

magpie

soaring up in a bright white sky
wings wide
the shadow of its feathers starkly outlined

chirp

the chirp from outside the window
repeats in time with my breathing 

squirrel

hiding behind the trunk 
but I can see his startled shadow on the fence

Sunday morning lie-in

fingers curled again a chest rising and falling
and the soft ripple of his pulse under the skin

in quality save

a tiny wizened lady browses the bargains
followed by her matching husband

tired

a heavy dull cotton-wool-stuffed feeling
and dark shadowy eyes
not even relieved by a cup of tea

journey home

a tall man outside Greg's
dances back and forth
battling an invisible foe
with his sandwich


football supporter on the tram
talks twaddle
about totalitarianism

after Zumba

I ride home in the dark
the cold air prickles deliciously on my warm skin

more snow

not flakes but tiny balls skitter and bounce along the pavement
only melting when they meet a puddle

glad to be not-old

enlivened by the sharp cold air outside
I skip down the stairs at the old people's flats
and greet the woman with the walker crossing the foyer

postman's torment

Coming down the stairwell from the seventh floor
and the smell of frying bacon floats up from the depths

child's work

washing sticks in puddles
is serious business

tornado 2

a tall swirl of dried leaves and rubbish appears momentarily in centre of the road
abruptly dispersed by a passing car

tornado 1

a swarm of shrieking children circle the playground
drowning out even the wind

Robin

a robin in the dark contributes a tuneless trill
to the uncertain overtures of the dawn chorus

the moon

the moon has delusions of grandeur
eschewing the habitual timid glimmer
its light fills the sky
and beams steal around the curtains 
to illuminate the bedroom

walking on ice

the gentle creak of footsteps on snow has been replaced 
by the crunch of treacherous ice

more snow

it may be gone in the morning
so Creature goes out in the dark
and twirls under the streetlight in the falling flakes
leaving her handprints on the pavement

unicorn

you enter to a subtle, enticing blend of herbs and spices
the recipe for a real food shop

(Unicorn Grocery)

in foreign at the station

a young Japanese couple cuddle and giggle
on the seats next to mine
their words unintelligible
the meaning unmistakable 

snow tracks

delicate trails of blackbirds criss-crossing each other across the garden
a squirrel bounds leaving a neat group of four paws
two in, two out
the small peanut impression of a child's wellies
and down a dark street, the meandering route of a bike
that I follow on mine over the bridge and round the corner to the office

Neighbours

neighbours shouting beyond the living room wall
the words unintelligible
but the meaning unmistakable

Snow 2

one of the pleasures of winter
making a neat set of footprints across the virgin snow

Snow 1

Under the streetlights the pavement is a twinkling expanse
small melted spots become like black holes in a white sky

Early again

It's still pitch black, though there is no frost,
but a lone blackbird thinks there is something to sing about.

Early morning

Across the lightly frosted garden
the neighbour's stained glass bathroom window glows warm

Magie

a lonesome magpie perches high on a skeletal tree
silhouetted against a pale frosty sky

Nostalgia moment

Sitting in the van listening to The Carpenters
warmed by the heater and mellowed by the music

hot lemon

the steam from my cup of hot lemon fogs my glasses
I have to pause and wait between sips before I can read again.

From the train 2

I close my eyes in Cheltenham station
and open them to find bedraggled fields vanishing into the fog

From the train 1

a cohort of bicycles stands in ranks on the platform
awaiting their marching orders

Dartmoor 3

we rattle over the cattle grid and promptly re-enter civilisation
I like the sign that reads:
thank you for taking moor care

Dartmoor 2

a couple of knobbly kneed lambs shelter behind
shaggy coated mothers

Dartmoor 1

swathes of the dark chocolate brown of dead bracken 
and the deep green of heather 
stretch out across the rain sodden expanse

Dancing

They play some big band jazz and
mum and dad jive between the tables.
I'm not sure I ever realised they had a life before I was born.
I watch and smile, and try not to cry.

not-snow

a delicate drift of white in the gutter covers the rotting leaves
but as it blows down the street
I realise they are polystyrene balls from a burst bean bag.

seagulls

a gang gathers on the goal for a gossip

Pink

Pink bubble car, like a vehicle from Oz,
pootles down the monotonous grey street

flats seen from the tram

washing dries on balconies
and a lone smoker watches the world go by

Leaving

A welcome blue sky streaked with white aeroplane trails
all converging on the distant vanishing point

dog again

boundless enthusiasm, bounding along the cycle track
tongue not just lolling out but streaming behind

dog at the supermarket

tail tucked under 
waiting disconsolate in the rain
big dark watery eyes follow me as I walk past

more rain

the lightest of misty rains brushes my cheeks
and leaves my eyelashes damp

New Year Resolutions

January joggers are earnest and determined,
cheerful despite the rain.

Midnight moonlight

Walking home to a cacophony of fireworks and car horns
a line of Chinese lanterns drift into the clouds ahead