Light Fractured

On frost-fractured morningsI pause to ponder the intricacy of lighton ice-sugared pinecones scattered like flotsamamong the silvery filigree of leaves and twinkling twigs that litter the path.And I remember winter’s mission:the extinction of useless lights and drawing of grey cloud curtainsacross the sky. But I knowthat light cannot be completely erased: it’s there in the […]

Little Wave

She is of water, a female element, a liminal creature,cold-blooded, not quite fish, not quite human,a little wave swimming free. She was curious about the man who bathed in the waterfall,where she loved to sing, a descant tinklingabove the splash and gush. She fell in love with his earthiness, the way his feet were plantedfirmly […]

Ode to November Rain

A respite from early snow, it pours from bruised clouds and makes the fields sodden.Drumming against my windows,I hear it in the garden,washing away words that robins have trodden.   It gushes in the gutters,punishes the water butt ‘til it overflows. I listen as it muttersrhymes I never wrote—a refreshing respite from the silent snow. Kim M. […]

So This Is Dilham

There are gulls between the goalson the village football pitch,tugging at lingering wisps of mist,their white wings stark against dirty green. They ignore the jackdaws, yinto their yang, pick at the last daisies,the ones that haven’t been squashedin mud, hoping for a tasty snack. No fish and chips here, too farfrom the coast, no shops […]

All Souls

I hear them through the chilling autumn mist,the muffled footsteps of returning souls;their heralds are the jackdaws and the crows. Before the sodden churchyard has been kissedby daylight skipping in between headstones,I hear them through the chilling autumn mist,the muffled footsteps of returning souls. The scarlet red of poppies will persist,although the blooms of summer […]

The Letter

The fragile paper almost torewith the pressure of her pen,ink blotting, words bleeding.So she wrote it out againon thicker vellum. The original words had fallenlike confetti from her hand – butwhen she copied them out,they did not express her emotion;they seemed flat. Heart fluttering with frustration,hand slick with perspiration,she focused on the punctuation;the final full […]

Quality Control

Clay is moist in their hands.They probe it with damp fingers,feel resistance until they simultaneouslythrow it on their wheelswith a wet thud. Percussion. The rhythm of the kick wheelgives them impetus to kneadand sculpt, and shapes emerge, breathingtogether with their creators,merging into a breeze. A windy symphony. Each pot has its maker’sfingerprints, though pots strivefor […]