Creeping

Along the low wall
purple aubretia creeps
towards April.

Squeezed

The extra hour of daylight: squeezed flat by descending black clouds.

Drill

Outside, the jangling din and vibration of a drill attacking concrete. Inside, the strung-tight tension of jangled minds.    

Blue

Above the rooftops,
a steady, expert hand
has painted blue, blue, blue.

Spring sun, not yet grown

Like a heedless puppy, it plants warm, cushiony, slightly damp paws on my face and licks my nose.

Flocks

A flock of gaudy tulips; far above them, a flock of squawking geese.

Hazy

The hazy almost-warmth of late afternoon: 
a dreamscape seen through a voile curtain.

Shiny

The morning cold is shiny with a film of gold and green, melting already. It reminds me of the south of France in winter.

Arms

A slim young woman in tight, black jeans and teeshirt lopes along. Bare arms - oh my. Smooth, brown arms. No goose pimples.

Cusp

Loud birdsong soars and grates; the air has an edge of sunshine and an edge of cold.

Treat

Seared pink salmon with melting yellow plantains, a scattering of peppery rocket leaves and a small glass of bright, slightly flowery Sauvignon.

Gallery

The visitors arrange themselves before each painting, posing, then shifting: harmonious and inharmonious tableaux.

Tangled shadows

The park is all dazzling sunshine: bare trees cast long, tangled shadows that worm their way through crowds of walkers, crowds of daffodils.

The Hare with Amber Eyes

A book that shines: the smooth, cool cover; the thick pile of pages promising story and intelligence.

Streak

The grass is a pale-green sea of dewy sunshine. Near the horizon, a white streak of dog.

More like Autumn

A mist that chills and a crying of crows: this is more like Autumn.

Morning

Morning damp: the budding hedge steams and drips.  A great darkness over the horizon. Here and now, this small cleansing and resurgence.

A day missed

For the first time this year, no small stone of observation. The fear and horror of events in Japan overcame the capacity to be present.

Gooseberry yoghurt

Clean and green; sharp and satiny; sour and creamy: a rare taste whose complexity rivals rhubarb.

Soften

The earth is softening into grass and flowers, while elsewhere it convulses.

Up

A contrail parallels the church spire, then shoots up, up, up towards the sun - a clear, strong line in this mottled morning.

Greening

Outside the shop with the apple-green sign stands a woman in an apple-green coat, and next to her a girl with an apple-green backpack.

Daffodils, still

Even wider open, they breath and stretch out their petals to the four directions, like a yoga class in two-tone yellow leotards.

Dark figures

The naked sun dazzles. Dark figures stalk the sidewalks criss-crossed by their elongated shadows.

Daffodils

Daffodils pose on the windowsill, wide open, chests out, yolk-yellow petals pointing and peering this way and that.

Trill

As the light dies

and the cold pinches,

a long trill from the bare tree.

Trying to be March

Tiny pockets of blue squeezed between coarse, giant puffs of grey: an undecided sky, sporadically trying to be March.

Diversion

The bus is on diversion. Suddenly, a strange city, not the daily route imprinted on my expectations, which abruptly flex and flux and readjust.

Tired

The world became quiet and blurry - as though an invisible, compassionate hand had lowered the volume, dimmed the contrast, allowed a weary brain some respite.  

Cold night

The return of cold: skin shrivels; breath rises like puffs of smoke in the black chill.

Yellow legs

A tiny girl overtakes me on her scooter, yellow-stockinged leg pumping vigorously.