5 am pot

the man is just a clot of shadow
lit by a tiny red glow
the familiar scent surrounds me 
in a cloud as I cycle past

5am frost

ahead, the frosted grass alongside the cycle track
glows eerily in the darkness

tram lines

In between the passing of trams
one pigeon splashes about in a deep puddle on the track
the others watch doubtfully
the water must be cold

Welcome

Trudging up to the second floor

for just one letter

a bright red mat by the door 

bids me 'Welcome'

hulme street

a scrap of litter flickers and glows 
floating high above the street
like an urban Chinese lantern
it hovers momentarily 
then the ashen remnants are blown away

hair dye

the sun comes out  
the breeze swirls a shiny cloud of pink hair
around my face
it makes me smile.

autumn

As I put the letters into the slot 
a golden beech leaf floats down
and is posted along with them.

flight path

all morning the planes come over so low
I could practically wave to the passengers

asleep

In the dark his breathing is slow and steady
but his hand still takes my fingers 
when I seek it out under the tangle of blankets

squirrel

he darts back and forth across the cycle track
then stops under my wheel

September

the sky-blue-pink evening 
fades to a starless night
scarred with aeroplane trails

reading

I am not reading
I stare at the page for a while
letting words drift into my eyes
then I turn the page

Costa Rican Adventure 8 - waves

watching for the dawn 
there is a momentary lull between the waves
the silence is so compete it is as if
someone turned off the ocean

Costa Rican Adventure 7 - collecting shells

beautiful spiral shells litter the beach
but there will be no collecting
they scuttle away at your approach
even the tiniest amongst them
is home to someone 

Costa Rican Adventure 6 - Cacao Monkeys again

We breakfast with a basilisk

Costa Rican Adventure 5 - Cacao Monkeys

In the pitch black the crashing waves of the pacific 
have been replaced with the chirrup of insects
and the plink plonk of frogs calling from the canopy.
We wake to the cacophony of howler monkeys.

Costa Rica Adventure 4 - snakes

tree roots in the path look like snakes
snakes look like tree roots
they are mostly tree roots.

Costa Rica Adventure 3 - leaf-cutter ants

I peer over the veranda at a procession of tiny white blossoms
making their way down into the shrubbery

Costa Rica Adventure 2 - above the clouds

the downy pillows of fleece are replaced with a clean blue-tinged sweep of ice
I could step from the wing and glide away

Costa Rica Adventure 1 - on the train

After two hours trapped with celebratory football chatter
the silence of the deserted Underground carriage is bliss

Sweet spot

The pigeon has found the acoustic sweet spot
it sits in the roof of the underpass
and it's coo surrounds us as we pass through

thank you

someone leaves a bag of doughnuts
at the callers office window
marked 'thank you'

petals

Thea and I make snowstorms 
with handfuls of fallen blossom

Susurration

In place of the habitual phone fidgeting
the muted music of a dozen animated conversations
fills the tram.

Rooks

the pair gather twigs together from the grass
and then head off
to make a rookery

Rain

the softest of pattering on the trampoline skin
is drowned out by aeroplanes 
concealed above the cloud,
they go to warmer
and probably drier
places.

train words

Is there a word 
for the weird sensation of movement
when your train is stationary but the one on the next track is moving?

Is there a word
for the almost irresistible temptation
when waiting for the door to open
to press the emergency alarm button?

Hove seafront 2

a seagull floats nonchalant on the buffeting wind
and I wonder
do they get the same sense of exhilaration
do they launch themselves from a lamppost 
with an excited wheeee!

Hove seafront 1

The wind chills the inside of my ears
and snatches away our conversation,
wild waves roll in and over the sea wall,
the promenade is strewn thick with pebbles and debris.
At bedtime I can still taste the salt on my lips.

catkins

late january
a handful of catkins on a bare twig in the middle of the lawn
promise so much

dog

its eyes follow me up the path
but the dog on the window sill is so weirdly rigid
that I am afraid it is stuffed
what a relief when he finally barks

three years on

In the porch the glass paperweight and mosaic candle holder remain,
as does the gaudy leprechaun;
they are joined by a large stuffed yellow Minion
leaning casually against the corner of window,
a minute snow globe 
and an even more minute metal model of stonehenge,
each stone only a few millimetres high.

(revisiting an old post)

Christmas trees

after the carnage is over
moulting Christmas carcasses litter the pavement
around Sprindale Gardens

moon again

the early evening sky is a crisp cold blue
but the moon is blurry and uncertain