So here it is, my last small stone for the River!


On a dual carriage way
between the busy lanes,
a huddled mound of
blackened cloth?

...I think I will have continue to collect small stones for my own stream - I'm a little bit hooked now! ;-)

Two brown boots
carefully aligned,
laces languid.

In the distance beyond the patchwork fields,
they stride purposefully around the valley’s edge.

I watch the mist curl
down over the horizon
in horizontal stripes.

The clouds mirror the
mountains, in frothy peaks.

In need of an anchor,
I'm floating away
on sudsied waters.

I couldn’t resist, I didn’t try
I judged a book by its cover,
now I’m afraid to peer inside.

The reflection
on my windscreen,
is a shiny sixpence
in a black satin sky.

It spreads across my cracker
like jellied amber,
across my tongue
like sweet, singed citrus.

the pleasure of the words
disappearing from the page,
as the images begin to
dance hazily behind my eyes.

The wind wails in waves
outside our 3 bed fortress,
silently finding its way
inside it sends a dust bunny
skittering across the floor.

My glass stands empty but still
blistered with condensation.

Woman's Best Friend

My hand is lifted gently by his wet nose,
just in case I had forgotten.

Morning breaks before dawn,
sun rises, albeit in shroud
I do not, I am slumped
but not slumbering,
my cup lolling languidly.

Traffic by Beethoven

As though moving to a conductors baton
part of a silent symphony
steering into and out of my path,
slowing my progress.

Darkened dirty windows,
eyes filled, spilling its tears
the wind howling in sympathy.

Sunday Lunch

A colossal lick of roast beef lolls out of a
gargantuan Yorkshire mouth, his three year old
eyes widen at the improbability of his task.

A velvet night, the crescent moon
cradled in a silhouette sycamore,
with a sprinkle of stars for company.

...Next Time with Turrets

Disappointment lingers
for a moment more
plans are sand between my fingers

I will build another castle

Coming Home

Through the frozen glass
a light glows, soft and yellow
I am warmly welcomed
though the house is empty.

Winter Sustenance

The sweet aroma, comfort
swirls out in waves, I
taste each flavour in turn,
as each scent grazes
my lips.

Rain Returns

Through the glass
the streetlights
form transparent,
psychedelic petals

Amongst the pinprick snowflakes
a solitary sunlit mountain
leaves the crowd in shade

Outside my door

into darkness
into clear iced air
a shifting silence
laced with amber spangles

The corked popped at 9.00
the New Year quietly fizzles
with the last glass at midnight