shocking pink geraniums in aqua pots: wake up!

head stuffed with cotton wool until I stop and listen

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.

dusk

pink orchid blooms tilt into purple against the inky sky

under the bird feeder

empty niger seeds pile up like sand dunes

a fox!

startled, he drops his naked sweetcorn cob

the kingdom of heaven

this hair on your head. this one. this one. this one.

the distance between them turns their skin; their insides are scorched by the air

they were worried about me. they saw my car but my curtains didn't open all weekend. i feel blessed.

welcome party after a long weekend away

miauw! miauw! miauw! purrpurrpurr

I want to hide with my caramel ice-cream. They have a party on the grass just outside my room.

salsa weekend, Suffolk

can I dance? can I dance? can I dance?

motorway services: swarming with men in fatigues and coachloads of girls

brilliant blue on the wing of the jay beckons me into the world

One bad runner recognises others and feels their pain

Three red-faced school children puff their way slowly through Pangbourne. Always at the back.

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.

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.

at the dinner table

where am I? who are these people? wherever I am, they are just human beings like me.

we laugh about going mad. we have this luxury. even so the laughter is tinged with fear.

sun rose

fuschia-pink crinkled petals around a yolky splodge

one day we will plant them in our garden

what can I tell you? i live with the question awhile

the garden freshly soaked, birdsong beckons me into the day

I'd like a large Sprite please.

Would you like a drink with that?

A drink?

With your fries.

Oh, I'd like a large SPRITE please.

Oh, a Sprite.

(brings large Coke)

Is this a Sprite?

Oh, a Sprite.

just two people and two pots of tea underneath a tree.

sun trickled through the leaves and soaked us in love.

We watch and watch the dots until they gloriously transform into bald-headed eagles.

Every one of us wants to be wearing the glove.

sunny morning, full of promise

front door propped open with a shoe, letting the drunken lily scent out and the outside-air in

blown dandelion clocks release their precious cargo, each seed swaddled in gravity-defying silk

sunlight
crests the ripples
which describe the
endless eddies
in the body
of the topaz
swimming pool

Melted butter-pool remnants of toasted cinammon bagel breakfast:
Fatty licks the set-down-on-the-carpet plate clean