after the storm...

stuck to the window

two leaves side by side 

a swollen river...

on raised ground a horse

munches on grass

    A Merry Christmas

                &

A Happy New Year to all

washing-up done—
through netted windows
a fading sunset

through the mist...

blinding sunlight  &

a horse’s silhouette

slow flow of the river—

on reaching the hilltop 

I’m gasping for air

a chill setting in...

white contrails crisscross

a bright blue sky

this evening...

a jet-black sky        &

a first quarter moon

dusk approaching—

in the heavens clouds

supercharged with light

Starlings...

blackening the sky

a murmuration of starlings—

reed beds at dusk

high winds all day...

in the washing-up suds

a wet dry leaf

For Lorraine

blustery day—

a cat suddenly pounces

on some shadows

from the back pew...

heads of the choir

pop up one by one

dusk approaching—

a tree seems to swallow

wagtail after wagtail

hazy full moon...

a chill wind stirs

the trees’ shadows

lurking in the shadows...

a black plastic bag

expanding in the breeze

still day...

a dry leaf breaks free

from the sycamore

on the high roof...

for a tick just the waggle

of a magpie’s tail

concert in full flow...

mingling with the music 

the smell of cooking

piano recital...

the old church becomes

a trompe l'oeil of sound

photography trip

me and a duck try

to outstare each other

                                quiet sunday—taking up

                                four bays of the car park
                                a murder of crows

a plump woodpigeon

makes a landing...

the phone wire wobbles

blue twilight...

in that vast blueness

just one white cloud

                                       through the window

                                       and a sunlit cobweb...
                                       the garden beyond

early morning sun—

the still translucence

of a single pink rose 

from behind the pillar...

Saint-Saëns sonata

captures  the void

in my head

a full orchestra...

piano & violin

                                                                              the sonata

                                       becomes water—
                                       ebb and flow...

                                      pointing my camera...

                                      a treebound squirrel

                                      plays peek-a-boo

first movement over...

the church’s old pews

creak & fall silent

a sudden gust...

a butterfly turns back 
into silver paper

clouds of starlings

become ocean waves—

blue twilight

through white nets

white butterflies flit in
then out of view

heat wave...

leaves fall from the tree

one by one

         in this bubble a blend

            of sun-hot scents...

         wild flower garden

holiday season—

a wasp hitches a ride

on the train heading west

eyes closed...

isolated in a circle

the soprano’s voice

overnight...

the spider in the bath

has trekked its length  

the boat’s wake...

has captured its own

little rainbow

entering the station...

fused to the shiny rails 

the last of the sun 

alone on the phone wire...

a cuckoo in silhouette

swallows an insect

end of day sun—

from the moving train

a streak of fox

undulating long grass...

    undulating too

isles of red poppies

from the river bank...

the blue of damselflies

in midday sun

a few strokes

from the artist’s brush...

voilà a bird appears!

mix of bird song—

emerging from its pupa

a Painted Lady

counting sheep—

before dawn breaks a burst

of blackbird song

bumping up the hill
our bus slowly enters
a swirling mist

Winter 1962/1963 - A Haiku Sequence

boxing day—

our back door is opened

to four feet of snow

what an adventure!

three exited children

dig their way out

a freeze sets in...

coal’s in short supply

so we join the queue

intense white clouds...

abruptly a gull drifts in

then out of sight

       early morning sun—

       the pigeons’ underwings

       whiter than white

hot sunny day—

a guard dog suddenly

goes into a spin

the bus door opens...

in floods the ozone

scent of new rain 

or

bus door opens...

in floods the scent

of new rain 

mid-field...

the scuttling rabbit

fades away

photographed duck

he seems to be keeping

an eye on me?

first warm day...

two dandelion blooms

glow in the kerb

               balmy day—

               a bumblebee lurches

               from the evergreen shrub

twilight...

a blackbird’s silent dash

into the undergrowth

office daydream

briefly a kestrel lands

on the window sill

angled sun streaks—

the weir’s surge of water

an opalescent green

flurries of snow

once again spring

has disappeared

dream-like state...

butterflies' flimsy flight

across the carpet

bitter wind...

we take refuge
in a betting shop

art exhibition...

that same perfume
follows me around

low evening sun...

a black cat scoots
across my shadow

                              on the footpath

                              two crushed daffodils

                              ...half-light

                              milk-grey sky—

                              a flight of ghostly gulls

                              circles the town

sunday afternoon—

everything static against

a milky-grey sky

sunset—

a new world mirrored

in the lily pond

(After Monet)

Valentine’s day...

all around town

single red roses

driving sleet all day—

two wagtails wag

across the empty road

rain turns to snow...

on & off for hours

the drip drip of water

still snowy vista—

the only movement

a lolloping rabbit

someone's approaching—

with its head down a coot

heads for the lake

among the petals 
on the path

an empty snail shell

midday frost...

the moon & clouds

sharp in a blue sky

bare tree...

snow from its branches

creates on-and-off showers

             first snow of the year...
             during a sleepless night

             listening to silence

the sky at dusk...

just the mono-voice

of countless rooks

revealed bit by bit...

a herd of white sheep

from the freezing mist

city street—above

the clamour of traffic

a lone piper playing

                             mid-winter scent...

                in a black sky the moon

                encircled in mist