we look for sand
there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea
the sea that is rising

black crow bird

pecks kitchen towel.

nest lining.

I read the judgement just now and while ironing the cotton handkies consider my confession.

Some time back now I was in residence at Plas Newydd in Llangollen and read the lady’s diaries with an apostrophe.

They wrote their daily menus and so my entry included some of the found ideas. Yes, folk really ate that….and fish with liver sauces….

Thankyou for your pleasant comments. I have such sweaters. My two most comfy are….

The grey shapeless mohair over 50 years old bought second hand and other Nordic thing both warm and come gender fluid.

With capitals today.

there came a faint whistle.

they looked the other way..

having chatted to an other
about seeing  stuff that
becomes personal when

alone

reminding him is not odd
at all

endearingly different
to the hub

and we love those
that fly solo
these days

the difference is a thing

winter brings
blind mountain soaked,
peat bogged, sulking
in wet cyclists, heaven colour
of gold on grey again.

he clears the leaves each day
from formal lawn
looks up
as i look at him,
a glimpse
outside .

good is in the small things.
.
pat says.

handbag, not fit for any purpose than

delight and design.

you notice small things too
and record them slightly

those touches, nuances
do you see the way they
glance, look aside…

the clouds waiting as you
say

there are many to fascinate
give them names and fluff

becomes fact
a place one can recognise

small thing  ragged who knows all of it

pieces torn away

or

is it a moth here in the dark?

triangles bring mystery

a new mathematics



the rooms were swept yesterday

bones hidden

teeth implied



yet the shape remains embedded

is fine here too this morning
a pinkish tinge with fluffy clouds

only I guess they ain’t fluff when you get up there
and no angels with harps sitting

for they would fall through
and fly or splat down

is like stars have no points really
is all a drawn out myth

mistake

the nicest thing about lighter evenings
is that I can lie in bed and see the big
old planes fly down the estuary and if
lucky

back inland again

time is limited these days. those one admired in youth devastate us now.   can we know all things, we only went twice ?

the clouds waiting as you
say

there are many to fascinate
give them names and fluff

becomes fact
a place one can recognise

the pattern remains the same,
the sentences longer. this is not an issue, and is
accepted gratefully.

they say that the latter will bring immense relief,
to try it consciously.

became slightly nervous looking up
at it
retreated to the studio

just stand and watch the season change, note the dew and separate ideas.  

remember that you stand alone. are not alone from                                                  criticism and contradiction.

stood steady in wonder

watched the dark bleed

across the sky

watch birds scatter

you like birds?

as do i

neither of us employed
&  i am vaguely idle

.oh.

in the dark

in the night

(or the timetable)

some places there is an order
of service
a timetable

it was cold in the night so we
all huddled in like it was a single
bed

when it is double

we make a nest
and warm up

i have a pet fly now

whose name is almond
so I call him marc
as an endearment

yesterday google said he
will live for 0.8 years
this morning she said two weeks

i have not seen him today
perhaps he is still to sleep?

the bear will cry out at 11pm……

sadly

some thing is changing here,
so slight it can hardly be
noticed.

yet it has been.  a feeling,
came with the light rain .

the quietness

all things are changing

was dark blue with a little red added
lasted two weeks and still prominent

yet there are paths,

walked, not just

by one or two.

or rabbits.


have young feet run here,

or solitary folk, thinking,



watching light hit water

you like birds?

as do i

neither of us employed
&  i am vaguely idle

furlough ended &  was
invited back part time

you see i said no

& despite protestations
seem to enjoy

for now a bus ride
and coffee

for it is raining a little

james


8.30

there is news from the village

some is good and all there is tidy.

while some comes shocking and hard

to bear

james.

fighting the predictions

481.

no bus arrived the timetable lady was contacted and she explained the bus was due at 2.30 pm that my internet were wrong and no one was bothered what it said at bus stops

as he left the garden
he said they may be working nearer home now.

courage to walk away
from objects that irritate
our eyes, to eat another way,
with snakes and camphor oil.

you know what i mean

the pattern remains the same,
the sentences longer. this is not an issue, and is
accepted gratefully.

they say that the latter will bring immense relief,
to try it consciously.

large rocks
fenced off yet
maybe i will
creep through
and touch
one quiet day

one stone
one finger touch
a ritual

did you find a pin there, did you pick it up and stick it?   did you stay safe, wrap the shawl around and hold    it   close?        did you see my life breaking, bring me pins for mending? …

black crow bird

sits on fence

#resting

wore a bonnet
when very small

with matching coat and gaiters

she bought them from the shop on the corner

then the earache brought a wolly thing

that should be woollen

if one can spell right

i hated it and took it off


7.49

red depleted.i use blue,
oh the darkness of it all,the surface tension,

primeval scream
hidden by centuries of crimson

maybe

is was dark blue with a little red added

lasted two weeks and still prominent.

much has happened since

becomes larger as time moves on.
it started early, with greek poetry,
the radio, which played all day.

can you fly from the window up into the hills where the trees are sawn down now

or maybe they used the machine

he was correct you know about the work along the estuary being drainage

the cut is ready
ditch is deep
mud banked

do you become tiny
walk there in mind

find the chosen pathways
watch the birds and wild
flowers grow

below the scene plays out
the dead
with wildlife as punctuation

the island blessed

sandy tracks to wander
in memory

like birds we flew

we miss you if you do not visit
a while

and we get all our tenses and lines
wrong and have to go back in a hurry

to amend

some of us most of us
tucked inside
becoming whiter
chattering
small white teeth

some make mistakes

i do and avoid the capitals

main thing is to weather the storms
and visit daily

i too lean slightly

high, mountain track,
scattered trees, country
road.

spend the day , waterlogged
moor, black rooted, bring it home.

best to be gentle with those and all other things…

there is nothing quite like changing stuff,

you see he always came on tuesday, but then

we started writing that day, so he will come

on thursday each month.

feels like autumn now, cat is in, windows misted.

a challenge to describe   these trees as suggested

the gentle good,  dawel disgyn,  little time

left, nor funds for flying.


tiny things become intimate


you may put them in cases, or hang on pins

straight or safety, it becomes political

the choice is yours


bulldog clips


you are the curator.


maybe things are red with black

today

slate slides
mud slips
rain falls

seems higher this time
water expands to where i see
the edge

hesitate again
look down

regret my first sentence
now

maybe will say it some other time
now

there is nothing quite like changing stuff,
you see he always came on tuesday, but then
we started writing that day, so he will come
on thursday each month.

tides are higher now, flooding the paths. he walked the mud, bringing the footsteps back to us

or is it the air changing?

mood settles, or is it the
time of year?