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