21 | August | 2011 | poetry diary

Green moss on grey rock;
shadows playing tricks with leaves
trembling with summer.

Finding a ruined hut
I could sit and watch the leaves
past their next falling.

Alone in the forest
I want to sit down and weep
Is it the passing breeze?

Seeing a peacock
butterfly on a buddleia;
momentary peace.

———

I’m on holiday in Northumberland. Writing poems on an iPhone is difficult so I’ll stick to haiku I think.