The moon’s a balloon that expands with night and bursts with stars and constellations bright, reminding late night lovers of the dawn whose fingers shatter dreams with early light. In the amber glow of a winter morn, when doors are locked and curtains are still drawn, early risers leave the warmth of their sheets to […]
Tag: Meeting the Bar
Woken by Birdsong
This morning I was woken by the sound of birdsong, a faint and distant tiny tin whistle of a song, as I lay in the cosy comfort of my warm bed and contemplated getting up and whistling along. Pulling a woolly sweater over my tousled head, I stepped outside, where a two-toned light began to […]
Sonnet to a Poet’s Hands
The young man’s hands were slender, quick and strong, composing sonnets to his unknown muse, creating worlds in drama and in song to challenge the emotions and amuse. The busy writer’s hands were stained with ink and words. His skin was cracked and raw with rhyme. The scratching of the pen spurred him to think […]
Morning Inspiration
I get up early while you’re still asleep; avoid the cats while creeping down the stairs, try not to wake you with my leaden feet, and stumble over work boots into chairs. The floor is cold, and so’s the toilet seat, the sink is laced with toothpaste and stray hairs. The cat tray smells and […]
Bread-Making in Winter
For months frayed foliage has covered earth, the agèd year is faded to sepia shades and now it turns again to white and grey with early dusk as winter draws its breath. The frigid bite of January’s mellowed, outdone by the aroma, as it lingers, of yeast and flour wafting from your fingers, familiar scent […]
December Moon
December moon had reached its height, everything was bleached of hue, lending fields a spectral light tinged with frosty blue. Everything was bleached of hue except for silent shadows tinged with frosty blue like moths gathering at windows. Except for silent shadows, all of nature shivered like moths gathering at windows, and icicles on branches […]
Waiting for Rain
As I walk among the willows, following the dried-up brook, I stumble on its hidden hollows, pebble beds and twisting roots, and brittle leaves crunch underfoot. Autumn leaves, a beetles feast, release a sweet scent of decay: pollen, dust and shrivelled weeds waiting for the autumn rain to come and flush them out again. Kim […]
