February fourteenth
means something to some
but not to all

It everyone crunches
together
nobody notices
how loud
you are

officially true
not your imagination
the sky is more blue

It’s a strange world
when a single word
can get under your skin

stopping your breath
feeling like death
with weights on your wings

trapped in a triangle
freedom is dangling
beyond reach on a string

The Roofer
tapped a slate
tenderly
looked up
said "Hi"

With better
Flower Show mapping
I'd have seen
more flowers

Five syllables (short)
Seven syllables (longer)
and five more to end

Thieves cut down the tree
that provided privacy
shelter and beauty

'People are funny'
Good thing!
Imagine
If they were not

Blue is beautiful
on bluebells and sky
not on moods

Smiling assistants
with my luggage
worth being called
'The old lady?

"The length of a lyric"
the writer explained
over a cup
of what looked like tea
"depends on eroding
a concept held dearly
down to its heartwood
to let it sing free"

Travel company cancelled
Good!
I can choose a new holiday

New perm
Keep dry
Clouding over
Umbrella?
At hairdresser's
Run!

I'm waiting for a phone call.
Sounds good, doesn't it.

If you're (gasp)
waistband
doesn't (ooh)
fasten
wear something else

I sit listening
looking through the scaffolding
hearing builders' din

Valentine's day
passed without incident
apart from learning
his history

Here lies Janet Aitch
Janet who?
Never heard of her!

The poetry group
teaches us many new things
including Haiku

Perhaps the cat
catches mice
that might otherwise
bother me

Who could invent more
than spring has already
begun to display?
what poetic lens
could improve on
her wild, yet gentle,
detailed unwrapping
of colours, flowers,
leaves, textures
revealing, unfolding,
teasing, rewarding,
nodding and dancing,
joyfully singing
her perpetual
ever-new refrain?

Iona
Place of pilgrimage-
if wind
hasn't halted
the ferry

So much stuff
he uses a small paintbrush
To dust

Turrets and towers rise
Castle broods
History hugs my heels

Folded in my hands
a nestling, a tiny bird
hardly old enough to hop or fly
let alone step over my windowsill
from the hazelbush outside
Caught, before it could panic
and throw itself at the window
It rests quietly
then darts off, in relief
at being free

Learning about clouds
is a major part
of the study of weather
The subtle changes
as clouds cluster,
merge, divide
in the blink of an eye
presage a storm
with lightning
flashing across their circumference
or
alternatively
forecast a day of calm

An old-established confectioner
claims his mints "keep you all aglow"
makes me think of old-time buying
from people serving
behind marble counters
the picture on the packet
shows an arc of blues expressing delight
I'm trying a mint ball now -
and it's all right.

Naming storms after people
is not appreciated
by those persons

In the old garden
long hidden through misuse
amateur gardeners are restoring its past
with the help of professionals
who know about such things as
should bee boles face east
where blue poppies do best
and which are good grapes for wine

It took quite some courage
to hack at the creepers
and break up the concrete
but look at it now

Scottish Country Dancing
Poetry in motion
until you get
tangled

With mingled feelings
of sadness and joy
I read the note
found tucked in a handbag
being given away

It brought back faint echos
unsettling thoughts
of relationships broken
of good times and sour

Only a note
but it casts such a spell
It quite overpowered me
'til the phone woke me harshly
and I came back to now

A murmuration of starlings
thousands upon thousands of them
swooping rising curling away
pulsing and throbbing as one
‘til they slowly gently descend
and melt into the shadows of the trees
and the screen fills with a picture
of David Attenborough

Rain
Tests your shoes
Wets your feet
Pleases shoe shops

I unwillingly awakened
far too early
and birds were singing

"I do tree root climbing"
"I fell from a hedge"

I write on Fridays
because the group meets
not otherwise

I sat down this morning
to catch up on mending
but the day was so dark
it made the dog bark
I peered at the sewing
couldn’t see where it was going
so I put it away
That’ll do for the day

Had haircut
Look better
feel happier
Good start to day

I'm knitting
a gold cardigan
bringing warmth
to winter sunshine

Two things we know
about Janet Aitch
She won't have a poem
and she's always late

but the sharing we give
of laughter and pain
give her something to write on
and we have her back again

The bluetits dash about
The blackbird sings
The robins flick their tails
and bounce
The thrush rustles
through the dead leaves
and the blackbird sings

Soon there will be eggs to coddle
nestlings to feed
and the blackbird will be too busy
to sing

No rhyme,
No rhythm,
No reason,
No poem,
No satisfaction

I'd like to think
"Someone,
somewhere
remembered me
with kindness"

We used to see
red squirrels
tufty-eared
dainty
harmless
rare

A smidgen  of snow
slows everything
To a slithering stop

Subtle changes
in green of leaves
heralds
autumn's
vibrant splendour

Social distancing
comes naturally to Brits
who like their own space

Tenderly drawing a book
from its place on the shelf
noting the decrepit
state of its spine
pages so yellowed
as to be almost orange

I steep myself
in the tiny print
and antique wording
and pray for the grace
to fathom is depths
and grasp its meaning

An observed word
infrequently heard
can isolate
or implicate
the visionary
thin with worry
in a dastardly plot
which will get him shot