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