this rope
should not be pulled
from opposite ends
in opposite directions

what once was straight
is now
a tangled knot;
no direction
can be discerned

my white-knuckled grip
must be relaxed
if
this mess
is to be
made straight

the thing is
you never know
if
you'll be
smiling
or cursing

at least for now
i'm smiling

let's be honest;
there will probably
still
be sunshine
when
          she's
                   gone

what started so promisingly
has been torn apart
again;
the oblivious
and the abstruse
contribute nothing
but silence.

we are the void
all is numbness
and nothing else

there is no beauty
in the freshly fallen snow
it is all a lie
it may appear
unblemished
immaculate
innocent
but takes little
to disturb
the perfection
this is a version
of what could be
but is only temporary
and cannot last
as we strive
to live it
our every action
spoils the purity
unveils the flaws
leaves us regretting
what we once tolerated
maybe next time
we will make it
last longer

no matter
what is built
or
what grows;
there is always
the fear
that foundations were laid
in
    shifting
                  sands
that roots
are rife with decay

i've suffered my fair share
i don't doubt
that you have too
yet
somehow
in spite of this
the walls
are still standing
the flowers
still bloom

maybe
its not as bad
as we thought

camping with
the dog
i sit out
eating breakfast
in the early
morning light
a faint whispering
of elements
crosses the field
a gentle touch
at the back of
my neck
before i notice
the slightest
      softest
of drizzles;
a dampened dappling
of pages
the slightest rippling
on the surface
of my morning tea
looking up
the wisps
of cloud
overhead
remain bright
and airy
but a dark horizon
promises brevity
to this

perhaps
that charcoal smudge
of nimbostratus
passed by
during the night
they didn't forecast
any rain
until tomorrow
after all
i am content
ignoring
   the warning signs
enjoying
the dog's snore
the flutter of tent
the dance
of grass
of insect
and of bird
and continuing
without change
while the dog
sleeps
at my side

perhaps
a sudden
flash of movement
as they pace
back and forth
or
a glimpse
of
a head
           a shoulder
                           an arm
as they bend
to their food
it's quite common
to see them
from behind
while their attention
is focused on something
bright
and colourful

it is not always possible
to see the inhabitants
of each enclosure
but
rest assured
they are in there
somewhere

may i suggest returning
at 8 o'clock on Thursday?

an artist
seeking a challenge
a true test of skill
will wait
for the storm to come
before putting brush
to canvas;
the seas
     in uproar
the morning light
     veiled by darkening clouds
the fury
     of the gods
will be cherished

there seems little point
in telling a story
where all is calm
in order
unmarred;
for fear
that all would feel
flat
     vapid
               lifeless

this gallery of tempests
does not signify
never having seen
the beauty of
the sun
resting upon
a peaceful shore;
the fear
is simply that
any attempts
to recreate such moments
might diminish
their worth

sometimes
the moon elopes
the night
showing her face
during daylight hours
hanging listlessly
seemingly
without purpose
sisyphean
a ghostly pallor
lingering
at the peripheries
of vista
and vision
impotent
as we go on
with our day
a reminder
haunting us
with second guesses
of that which
we thought resolved
the night before
try as she might
her powers
will wane
in this dominion
of sun
and that which
she felt need
to illuminate
will no longer
be seen

sometimes
it doesn't matter
how beautiful
the birdsong

sometimes
all you want
is
to sleep

from a distance
the three elderly ladies
shuffling through the park
seemed to be struggling
along the uneven path
with knock-kneed
and limping gait
one leant on a cane
while the other leant
on the arm of the third
behind this head-scarved crutch
drags a floral trolley
if not William Morris
a pattern very similar
to Strawberry Thief
the leaves of
a cheese plant
sticking out from
its open-mouthed top
each of the trio
wears a cardigan
wrapped tightly
against this changeable
spring-time breeze
as they pass by
it becomes clear
though their journey
might be harder
than it once was
they will chatter
and cackle
grin and wink
with each step
along the way

almost every day
as i walk the dogs
up the hill
two crows
wait for me
at the entrance
to the woods
they swoop low
cawing as they land
on the sign post
or sometimes simply
a matter of paces
ahead of me
hopeful
it would seem
that their display
of such bravery
is noticed and
perhaps rewarded

i couldn't help
but name them
and each time
they appear
talk to them
asking how
their day is going
while leaving
a handful
of dog kibble
as i walk on
to thank them
for their visit
in the hope
that their courage
my kindliness
time and persistence
might bring us
closer still

a clay coloured mug
with the dregs
of now-cold coffee
swirling with bits
accumulated dust
and a fallen fly
left on the side
it needs to be washed
but will be ignored
time and again
each time i pass by
because of how
it is stained;
not by the rings
lining it's inner surface
from top to bottom
with striations of brown
but because of
the lipstick smudge
on its outer edge
a sign of her presence
of all the memories
that a smear of red
can conjure
and a reminder
that she will
be home soon

there's probably something
far deeper at work here
something quite important
and worth delving into
to be explored more
thoroughly
consequentially
consciously

instead i'll probably
just end up thinking about
that shoelace in my boot
the one that still
needs to be replaced
ragged and frayed as it is
and i'll wonder how long
i can ignore it before
it finally snaps
and i'm left with
no choice anymore

the fox spotted me;
as i rounded the corner
bags of groceries
jostling awkwardly
clutched in one fist
oblivious as i rummaged
the depths of my pocket
for the front door key
with the other

long before i spotted it;
that vulpine form
sleek and crafty
elusive yet stark
amongst these surroundings
more often heard
seldom seen
fleetingly at that

in the time that
it took me to recognise
this incursion
of the majesty of animal
upon the mundane of man
to stop and take notice
and give the underapreciated
the moment it deserved
to marvel as a child might
that cunning visitor had
already turned tail
determined and decided
it took its chosen course
without pause

supposedly a mature
well-put-together
functioning adult
who has travelled
both up and
down escalators
     of all sizes
countless times
throughout his life
there will always be
a fleeting moment
a child-like panic
as he shuffles onto
the grinning maw
of those toothy steps
still experiencing
that lingering
sense of unease
he would get
while younger
climbing or descending
dragged along
by driven parents
or rushing onwards
to keep pace with
assured friends

in that split second
before sole
and metal conjoin
overwhelmed by
the constant shifting
of this unwelcoming
corrugated tread
with calculations of
when and where
to place his feet
in time with
the ever-moving
conveyor of steps
frozen momentarily
with the thought
that he might
miss his footing
trip and fall
even though
deep down he knows
he has managed this
innumerable
times before