It has been a surprise to see how quickly the land seems empty. It feels to me as if the seasons have descended at speed from autumn to winter and I wondered what I might learn.
This Like an old net curtain Day …Read more The Day Hangs
There is a silence that corrupts the soul, As a lonely man walks down a road. A mental tut, a tapping shoe. I know all about you! A story is told that’s deep and long And very possibly entirely wrong! Condemning, simmering, quiet hate The need to dissect and then berate The cigarette,…Read more A Corrupting Silence
November, the air hangs still The sky left to the lament of crows A toneless dirge on empty fields The pallid sun fights to puncture thin clouds Nature’s pause, before the storms of winter. On my recent morning walks, I have noticed the stillness of the air and the quietness around me, which has been…Read more November
On the edge of summer, the green wanes and the wind is quiet. Time for the autumn’s fiery pageant to salsa her dazzling colours across the land – auburn, amber, golden yellow Before her routine is complete. Stillness throws down his thread-bare, cold edged cloak. Waiting decay creeps into her joints and sits unravelling summer’s…Read more On the Edge of Summer