the hover mower
blowing earth from nearby beds
creating dust storms
on the hedgehog house
a thrush taps insistently
out pops a robin
in the back garden
half an empty bird's egg shell
in the front the rest
on the blue rose bush
all the blooms hide their faces -
from us and from the sun
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
The final images below are from my now defunct website which I decided to revisit (cannibalise, if you will) a while back. They are a few ye...
Below is the third - and, so far as I can tell at present, the final - draft of a poem for which I have been quite unable to find a title to...