Friday, 29 April 2022

FNFDF

 I call: First New Forest donkey foal, yesterday, just East of Beaulieu.

And a young blackbird in the garden today.

Sunday, 17 April 2022

On The Sea of Green

My garden dinghy sits atop its trailer on a wave of deeper grass, where the pigeons don't graze.

Around its prow, the sun brings out ripples of daisies and speedwell, like the sparkling reflections of light on water.

Cradled on a soupy sea; in still motion.

I wasn't ready

 Dad died two and a half weeks ago.

Monday, 31 January 2022

Bird count, but not like this

Walking North (first time in a while), the place is overrun with redwings and wrens.

Tens of wrens.

More wrens than round robins.

Not a goldcrest to be seen, but a couple of tree creepers. And nuthatches were heard.

On the way, I saw a crow with white in its wings,

on my return a jackdaw with white highlights along its finger bones, like a flying skeleton bird.

Thursday, 13 January 2022

Not

 I fell asleep again at five, imagined dialogue fading in my mind, ideas to write.

Awoke nearer nine, strident light of a frosty morn oosing through the weave of my dark curtains, gold and silver; pleats of smoked mackerel skin.

Now I close my eyes for meditation's visions, to find an auditorium of folding chairs in a tornado.

Clatter, clatter.

Sunday, 21 November 2021

This time of year; that season.

On Wednesday, I found myself driving out past the custard maple, to find her in full Birds made with full-fat milk glory.

Now the visitors have left, the forest has lit up with autumnal splendour. The beasts have grown new coats. Mud is back in fashion.

With Andras Schiff rattling out Book I in the old Decca recording as a background, I washed a few soapy bowls this morning entirely by touch, my eyes transfixed by a jay raiding for apple scraps in the garden.

I added an extra layer for my walk yesterday, to the scarf that's been back on duty for a month.

I adopted a pet rock from Devon last week. On the window sill, it suddenly looks like a shark.

Thursday, 21 October 2021

Whining and dining

I have a pet mosquito,

who comes each night to feed.

I'll fetch a rolled up newspaper,

to teach him* how to read.


* yes, I know.