Friday, September 30

a yellow spider accompanies us to Dilwyn
his little round body filled with life

Thursday, September 29

Wednesday, September 28

scrubbing at the breakfast tin releases a savoury bloom of mushroom scent

Tuesday, September 27

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(a junk comment on one of my old small stones provides me with today's small stone.)

Monday, September 26


at first I think 'disease' but the leaves are simply yellowing with age & getting ready to let go of their height

Sunday, September 25

her voice contains treacle, gravel, earth, shiny ribbon & tiny (lethal) shards of glass

Saturday, September 24

what's here? tight neck. hollow stomach. those creaking pops in my muscles as they begin to get permission to relax. saxaphone on the radio. the weak afternoon light shining through the blue-green leaves. ground solid under my feet. i let the world work on me.

Friday, September 23

joss-stick smoke clings to my clothes like burrs

Thursday, September 22

sleeping cat:

small noise from the circle of fur on the chair, half-snore, half-satisfied-sigh

Wednesday, September 21

Three small boys in fighting costumes after we feign fear

"Don't worry, you won't really get killed. We're dressed up like this. We're only children."

Tuesday, September 20

inching across a path on the hills

zesty lemon yellow Pale Tussock caterpillar with his urticating hairs, a crimson tail behind

Monday, September 19

old cat
freshly wounded ears
his sap still rising, still rising

Sunday, September 18

wildlife seen from the hut at the bottom of the garden

brash magpies
many busy-busy squirrels
the blue-grey edge of a pigeon
heavily pregnant spider
two shy cats, both with collars, one black, one white
a graceful slug with black velvet optical tentacles

Saturday, September 17


she brings me a hot water bottle
under the eider-down
it stays toasty against my toes
until morning

Friday, September 16

a late red rose
autumn sun
a bright
plastic peg

Thursday, September 15

wood pigeon's favourite chant
hoo whohooo whoo... hoo hoo. hoo whohoo whoo... hoo hoo.

Wednesday, September 14

cat asleep on the chair
all the muscles in his face loose
dreaming of dressing-gown-belts
just poking underneath the door

Tuesday, September 13

bone china mug splashed with orange lilies
carbon-copy of the one we smashed
this incarnation can be my favourite now

Monday, September 12

Dark sky. A sprinkle of white birds drift and turn, cinders.

Sunday, September 11


We have neglected them. They have been blooming for us since May: deep fuchsia pink, cross-hatched purple, salmon. They are tired now, leggy, but in this autumn chill they continue their push towards eternity.

Saturday, September 10

Friday, September 9

Fatty's life-without-us

As we get ready to pull away in the car, we watch a strange man petting Fatty. Do they know each other? The next morning, I pull another cat's claw from the skin inside his ear where it is embedded.

Thursday, September 8

Somebody tells me something about someone I don't really know. Now I don't want to know them any better.

Wednesday, September 7

on stopping, the weight of not-having-stopped settles in my chest and slowly leaks away into the floor

Tuesday, September 6

oatcake battleground

slices of beetroot leaking their blood
tainting virginal snow-white cream cheese

Monday, September 5

Sunday, September 4

faint dinging of far away church bells, drambledrambledramble of the washing machine, 1920s jazz shimmying from the radio. Fatty's purr.

Saturday, September 3

in the conservatory

conversation punctuated with sipped swallows of hot lemon-ginger

Friday, September 2


dark cherry juice in a wine-glass
curled dog on a comfy old armchair
strawberry-jewelled cake with 40 candles
will anyone like me?
children running around in big dresses
beautiful music lifting us up

Thursday, September 1