the blue sky sprinkled
with sun-filled clouds—
         crescent moon

twilight...
in a mackerel sky
a band of gold light

moon vigil―just
after eleven it’s there
full and bright

Christmas rush—
in the road a pair of trainers
                    pointing
in different directions

long shadows...
against the skyline
the yellow of broom

whisper of wind...
a plastic bag trickles
around the courtyard

minicab ride…
bursting from the verge
a yellowhammer

twisting and turning...
every so often
the crackle of leaves

              or

twisting and turning
all night long...

the crackle of leaves

waterfall foam—now
and then a fish breaks
the pond’s surface

riverside stroll...
the face’s sand cheek
tumbles into a wave

evening shadows
a lone figure walks
across the road

still morning
the cat’s front paws
my side of the railings

dull rainy day
through my window
the sheen of a crow

late afternoon
on the red brick wall
a strip of sunlight

sound of sirens
on the high lamppost
two collared doves

homeward bound...
it’s only raining on
one side of the road

dark rain...
the day bounces back
with a burst of sunlight

lazy afternoon...
a bee drifts up and down
the window pane

river—at a bend
the water becomes
stone-thrown ripples

      between
   sun-filled clouds
a vivid quarter moon

sleepless night...
today the dawn chorus
just a cooing pigeon

hillside ruin—
below a scarecrow
stares straight ahead

dry sandy bank...
six poppy blooms joggle
in the breeze

                 town centre
                 after rain the scent
                 of buddleia

quiet mudflats
a crow scatters a flock
of black-headed gulls

roar of water...
into the weir’s white froth
a leaf tumbles

Dear All,

I’ve decided to take a break from Blogging. Many thanks to you for all your very kind comments and observations to date - it is much appreciated.

Best wishes, Frank...

steady rain...
drinking a glass of water
at two am

now patched up...
the old wall has lost most
of its self-sown plants

a fresh day...
the green of the lawn
makes me smile inside

crowded bus—
a ladybird moves slowly
across the window pane

still afternoon...

beneath the sapling tree

a neat mound of blossom                      

twilight—a loose leaf
at the twig’s end
twirls in the wind

chatter of birds—
descending through sunlight
a shower of leaves

on a white cloud
our plane’s silhouette
in a circle of light

warm evening...
a dumped ice cream trickles
towards the kerb

sultry morning...
from the washing up bottle
a rush of bubbles

early evening
two wagtails flicker
along the footpath

early morning walk...
on the path a red rose
its petals scattered

sun-flecked sky—through
an old window pane a pigeon
distorts then fades away

census day—for a moment
three geese fly parallel
                     with our train

rush-hour platform
each starling descends
with a ball of sunshine

eyes blink
as horse propelled sand
becomes part of the wind

the city’s square
incoming starlings darken
the darkening sky

the day fading—swathes
of daffodils hold onto
the last of the light

an icy wind—above
the town’s clamour
the cawing of crows

on the ground
a dusting of mahonia petals...
in the air its scent

first light—
a grey squirrel lands
on the bird table

blackbird...
flitting noisily through
shadow and light

morning rush…
each litterbin in the road
topped with snow

fading light
on the park’s island
the heron’s stillness

february full moon
latticed when viewed
through the twigs of a tree

lazy afternoon
two canal moorhens
square up for a fight

almost spring—

from the landing blackbird

a short burst of song     

stiff breeze…
dry twigs tremble
in a spider’s web

grey September...
as we chatter
the ferry arrives

mid-winter scent…
in a black sky the moon
encircled in mist

zipping along
behind ghostly clouds...
the sun’s silver face

naked landscape...
on the river’s island
islands of snowdrops

new moon in mist

stepping from the house

to the smell of smoke

our plane takes off...
a sudden jolt focuses
my eyes on the clouds

eyeballed...
the running rabbit
dives for cover

brilliant sun
along the rail bank
pockets of snow

St. George’s day
from the busy street
a blast of Britannia

starting at the base
the woodpecker nods
its way up the tree

on landing...
a bird knocks a leaf
off its perch

busy river ...
a gull is carried
on an arctic wind

sipping a pint...
slowly the setting sun
turns the building orange

open-air café —
a starling peeks into
an empty cake box

an iron-grey sky...
from a strand of light
the hanging moon