hallelujah

the radio sings to me
bittersweet and beautiful

moss grows mouth-watering green on the unwalked / undriven-on centre of the track

from through the walls, her newborn mewls and mewls

across the ploughed field
trees sing their luminous yellow

she bends to her cello and out comes autumn, turning

the tops of turning trees
over-enthusiastically
ruffled and swayed
by late october
(-brrrrrrr-)
wind

stolen time in the shrine room with words

hoping no-one will wake up just yet

After views across the hills too beautiful to cage in words, we eat pasties at St Anne's Well and the children become chickens, running up and down the stone steps, clucking and squawking with glee.

under the weather

dragging myself through the day like the heavy animal carcass I am

cold detritus

twisted remnants of tissue, my own slug trail

cat fight

above the violence

puffs of fur float up:

dandelion seeds

early morning in the shrine room

a tall rectangle of razor-strips of light with

silhouettes of trees, everything SHIMMERs

sun polishes leaves until they shine

cold breath seeps in at the window

how could I describe the green of Caroline's broccoli soup?

in group

the fury rises up like a peacock's fan

digging deep in the trifle bowl: sponge gold

morning service

punctuated with bells and sneezes

fallow field hedgerow

rowan berries, gone over, dark crimson lipstick

cleaning spree: three spiders die

breezy October morning

a small brown leaf turns into a bird and back again

autumn bush clotted and sagging with tangerine berries

amongst the apple trees and views, an antique water tower: flaking pond-weed paint and bark-brown rust, more organic as the years go by

litterbox

sniff: a whiff of shit drifts through the rooms

next door's washing line

collapsed like an umbrella, gorgeous tangles of yellow loops

the big clean

a year of dust and tiny dirt swirling down the drain

all through our conversation I sneak glances through the glass behind her: dazzling blue

grey-and-peach coated Esther leaps at imaginary birds

tired eyes glow warm: adrenaline

inside, under glass

a steady thrum of rain like fingers loving the knots in my back

fall tree

the tippermost leaves blushing orange-red as if unrooted, turned and dipped in stain

new house

plus

two ecstatic-to-be-out-of-the-car-at-last cats

equals

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