Strawberries and cream
next to empty Pimms glasses –
that man has no shoes.
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I was at a traditional English summer garden party yesterday.
A damp June evening;
pigeons hanging in still air
breathed out by rain gods.
Uniform walkways,
glass towers and cultured trees –
a car turns away.
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I was in Coventry yesterday, where much of the city centre is being rebuilt.
A bowl in mid-air;
spun from careless hands, destined
to fragment my day.
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The moment I realised the simple bowl I’ve used to make my breakfast every morning for years was about to be lost. It was perfect for the job – which you don’t always appreciate until too late.
A muddy puddle –
six hundred people running
scattering dried stones.
****************
Every Saturday morning hundreds of people meet in our local park to run 5km (at vastly varying paces, for fun!).
White lily petals
adrift on a wooden floor –
velvet-scented air.
*******************
I enjoy bringing a few flowers inside – but they don’t last long.
A philosopher
tells me nothing is certain.
I fill my wine glass.
****************
I did actually sit next to a philosophy professor at dinner last night. She drank with me, though, so I’m being a little unfair!
Against red brick skies
buddleias sprung from towers.
Empty summer streets.
*************
Outside the semi-derelict former Methodist Central Hall, Birmingham.
A jewellery display
made by refugee women.
Tears pearl on my cheek.
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I visited a jewellery exhibition in Birmingham yesterday. Sometimes simple things are inspiring (and should be supported more widely). Search the hashtag for more information.
In the gym café
a grandmother lifts her cup
with a teenage arm.
***************
I felt stiff and old yesterday, watching some much older and fitter women enjoying coffee and newspapers after their gym session.
poetry diary 