Weeding
Roots, shaking off earth,
glow white, like worms. I toss them,
dead, into the hedge.
***********
Gardening is a brutal affair sometimes.
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Roots, shaking off earth,
glow white, like worms. I toss them,
dead, into the hedge.
***********
Gardening is a brutal affair sometimes.
A band playing jazz
under a tree in the rain –
drops weighting its leaves.
***********
They were about to get very wet.
Early summer rain
scatters rose petals and scents
of an eager earth.
********************
It’s been raining a lot here this week.
Nineteen eighties chairs,
kitchen units and sofas
filling empty rooms.
*****************
Meeting the leader of a local authority and seeing the dire state of our democracy at first hand.
A tiny cyclist
head down, speeding. I move left
and bask in mum’s smile.
********************
Time to start writing again.
poetry diary 