Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Sleeping grandchild

these tiny pink-bloomed shells remind me
of you, your newborn finger nails;
and how, even in sleep,
your fragile fingers coil
round mine,
your baby scent and softness
fills my heart.

Sunday, 13 February 2011


blue-grey sea
white waves crashing
grass, gorse and heather
rain on my window
blurring the image

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Writers' Block

like a dam slowing the flow of water,
worries flood the imagination,
stop the eager stream of words.

For days the muse has stranded me,
abandoned me,
left me blocked against a barrier
that I cannot push away.

Today I cease to struggle,
turn to flowers,
take five blooms bright as suns,
fill five shot glasses with water
let my imagination find expression
in a different way
    and find a smile.

Friday, 4 February 2011

The seven year old in me

kicks her way through puddles,
loves the way
each tiny splash creates a ring of ripples.

Thursday, 3 February 2011

Wordsworth's favourite flower

Lesser celandine's bright bloom
is flowering early
rivalling the budding snowdrops.

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Haiku - After rain

beads on a necklace
raindrops hang on every twig
glisten in the sun

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Coal tit

He hit the window pane,
fluttered, twitched
   and then lay still.
I cupped him in my hands
warmed him, wished him well
   and watched him fly away.