The Spilling

Just when I’ve learnt to read the landscape carefully: the flight of birds and growth of plants, the arrangement of furrowed fields and coppiced hedges; now that I’ve mastered its punctuation with quiet glee: the question mark of church, comma of farmhouse, full stop of village and parentheses of trees; nature spills her evening ink […]

Perfumed Question

honeysuckle blooms starlit in the night how does it spill fragrance? Kim M. Russell, 22nd July 2019 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Roads Weekend Mini-Challenge: Pick 2 Prompts, Any Prompts! then Senryū or Elfchen or Cherita I’m catching up with reading and writing after a weekend with my daughter son-in-law and grandson, so […]

Hints of Sepia – My Great Grandfather

The sepia of the creased photo hints at breath of ale and sweet tobacco that clung to pipes lined up in a rack. It echoes with the tock of a mantel clock and the faster tick of a watch tethered to his pocket by a brass chain. His moustache, waxed and sharp, would prickle your […]

Fast News is Like Fast Food

I remember when news wasn’t quite so new – it was events from yesterday, the day or even weeks before. Reporters sent telegrams and pigeons from far away. We waited for news of births, deaths and wars, read a newspaper over a cup of tea or coffee, ate fish and chips from it, smothered it […]

Poetic Pollen

I inhale yellow: pollen dances on sunlight inhabiting air. Two geese overhead; their wing beats stir the cherry pink and freshly bloomed. Pollen-dusted bees zip in and out of flowers – honeyed promises. Kim M. Russell, 20th April 2019 My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Weekend Mini-Challenge, in April: Three Spring Shorts Magaly […]

Bright Grace

In the darkness of a November night, the autumn moon rose proud and bright, and so did you,  my magical child, in a landscape green and wild. You were my ēlē every morning, the grace of light, of each day dawning, the most beautiful in Celtic lore, Gráinne, beloved, a mythical flower. Kim M. Russell, […]