Monday, June 28
blackbird
fished out of the pool, he huddles on the lawn, forlorn. time passes. we fear the worst. just as we pronounce him doomed he scuttles across the lawn and back into his life.
Sunday, June 27
Saturday, June 26
Friday, June 25
Thursday, June 24
Wednesday, June 23
Tuesday, June 22
Monday, June 21
Sunday, June 20
Saturday, June 19
Wednesday, June 16
One bad runner recognises others and feels their pain
Three red-faced school children puff their way slowly through Pangbourne. Always at the back.
Tuesday, June 15
noisy cat
he settles down, finally, and gathers his brush tail in towards him.
next to him on the carpet, a small brown leaf with a curled stalk.
words from a song
driving alone, I say them out loud and taste their deliciousness: flushed chest. flushed chest. flushed chest.
Sunday, June 13
Kaspa, Tara and me
We walk through the corn. The stalks glint grey-blue. We argue about whether this colour could be called 'slate', we talk about how slate looks after rain, each of us seeing it differently. The fields and this hot hazy afternoon go on forever.
Saturday, June 12
at the dinner table
where am I? who are these people? wherever I am, they are just human beings like me.
Friday, June 11
Thursday, June 10
sun rose
fuschia-pink crinkled petals around a yolky splodge
one day we will plant them in our garden
Monday, June 7
Sunday, June 6
Friday, June 4
sunny morning, full of promise
front door propped open with a shoe, letting the drunken lily scent out and the outside-air in
Thursday, June 3
Wednesday, June 2
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)