Poems of Light Sleep: 27th July 2020

Evening of blue polish,
pink hollyhock.

Golden footsteps,
reach the trees.

Thin shadows,
summer fields.

Picking the fruit,
from yesterday.

Small figures,
in the distance.

A shoe hovers,



Blindfolded lilies,
fish beneath.

The afternoon passes
a wading heron.

Engraved on a memorial
and dreamt by picnickers.

Under the trees, on the shore,
ducks sleep with one eye open.



Summer rain,
night time.


Midnight pool,
clock hands.

Wind it up,
wind it up.

We are.

Night curtains
on night walking.

Rain and wind outside.



Poems: Friday 17th July 2020

On the other side,
the dog barks.

Sunset on
green conker shells.

The fine rain,
morning mist.

The church of
empty grounds.

A quiet street.

Beneath the plum tree,
brush and leaf.

Few fruit,
empty nest.

Noon clouds
homewards call.

The cat’s eyes



Beyond the bridge,
a house of lavender.

Swallows’ cries.

In pairs
they sweep.

Past the old peoples’ home,
the quiet stream.

On a sloping street,
a house of lavender,
and runner beans.


Poetry: Tuesday 7th July 2020

Swallows passing
in the morning.

Heart of
soft rain.

A street,
over the stile.

Butterfly spots,
large, grey clouds.

The afternoon
a long curve.

Blackberries poke,
dust and rain.

Two pale horses
in the shade.



The wind’s

A door
in the stream.

the poppies’
morning song.

Voices sail
with the birds.
Time waits
for his bill.

The long grass
has gone and come
in rain and scent.

A baby is here,
who wrestled with the night.

In the garden,
flower, leaf
stirring breeze.

On one side we walk
by thicket and stream.

On the other side,
the garden,
the buzzard,
the lake of geese.

Hold baby
who belongs to both.

In the old pines
where squirrels play,
we will count leaves.

In the library
we will remember
dreams at sea.

At the lake of geese,

children throwing seeds
at the setting sun.

Old park walls,
crossing paths,
forgotten doors.

Moonlit swan,
the fountain sound.

These are the songs,
the poppies sang.