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