Spring cold

I really miss breathing when I can't

The promise of courgettes

The seedlings are inching their roots downwards, reaching their bodies up towards the sun.

Learning new birds at the birdfeeder

We find it in a book crowded with wings and beaks - 'Greenfinch'. Everything on this wonderful planet has a name.

Photo of ferns on my office wall

A Japanese man stood in front of these ferns and clicked the shutter - where? When? They are straight and green and still alive.

small voice from the street

'mummy, can you smell farts?'

Worm

He pulls up his sleeve in the graveyard, where anyone could see him, and waits as his friend hands him something I can't see. His skin is pale, like a worm in freshly dug earth.

The soles of her feet

She jumps off her bike and knocks the girl over, shouting and kicking her in the head and stomach. There are men with them, they raise their voices and step in, pulling them away from each other. Just further on, a pink pool of cherry blossom lies under a naked tree. I pick one up, as if it might help. It has no scent. The tissue-thin petals are as soft as the soles of that fighting woman's feet when she was a baby.

New home by a busy road

He came to mow our lawn, the new lawn. We said we had 2 cats - he laughed and said 'for how long?'. The neighbours cat was knocked down last month. Today three women stood around another dead cat on the verge, one of them holding her forehead. Never mind the cats (of course I do) - it's an important question for all of us.

Early morning in a business park

Old skinny fox: oh where are you going?

Man in a bright orange Post Office vest

He looks a little too old, wild-haired and wild to be a Post Office employee, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. When we spot him again the can of strong cider in his right hand gives him away.

Usual drive

The flowers in the bouquet tied to the sign have also died. Will I always be so shocked by the colour of ripe rapeseed? Daffodils and buttercups light my way to work.

shhhh

pink and blue sky, whisper of moon, even(bird)song

One, two, three...

I count them as I pick them up. The fag butts. I count them. That's a quarter of a million since Christmas. I count them as I pick them up.

pink pink pink

the cherry blossom hangs down, bears the tree (and me) up

Evening chorus

The birds all cry at once - 'cat! cat! cat!'.

Rhubarb disaster

It was meant to be rhubarb crumble, but the crumbs slipped into the purply liquid like a sinking island.

Mr. and Mrs.

Colour-splashed Mr. Pheasant stalks across the garden like he owns it. Mrs. Pheasant follows behind - drab brown, with a quiet dignity of her own. They both snack on the seed that has leaked from the feeders before continuing with their morning stroll.

Feast

The birds cheep 'thank you thank you thank you' for their seed, a full feeder already gobbled up.

Misplaced

I'm sure I put my poetry-writing widget down somewhere around here....

Too much

Sunday's Easter egg is losing its appeal.

Just like that

Burrowing a few Pink Fur Apple potatoes in the soil will mean digging up many more when summer arrives.

lost

the whole of Monday slipped into the water before I could get a hold

sunny easter

a pastel-yellow butterfly mistakes a dandelion for his sister

home

a single tulip saying 'red!' against the white brick walls

waiting

an all-blue billboard, just off-sky

moved!

moving

...

moving

...

look up!

pale orange branches, pale blue sky

Digger

A digger tips its scoop: the sand slides out as if from a cupped palm.