Plum blossom

suddenly
the spikes are stuck with froth
black branches clouded
with honey scent
and the brindled buzzing of bees

once frost-furred
the plums are clad
in gull-soft drapery
heady-sweet
as spring water

crisp white
cut out against the blue
a railing of blossom
against the buffeting sea
the house sails

5 lines

Wind in the poplars and the oaks
branch-snapping
like the narrow necks of cranes
high in the buffeted night sky
so full of sounding dark.

A spring wish

daffodil days
lemon-sunned beneath dapples
bird-quiet
rippled with water songs
and the sky pale as a new egg

I can taste the turning
in the wind-whisper
riffling soft through the drifts
of last year’s sorrows
letting them fly

Sky fire

December dawn in crimson
black-etched
spreading colour waves
belling thrush and robin songs into the west
where embers of sun-fire smoulder.

 

 

 

 

Dawn yesterday. I’ve never seen such an intense crimson sky. Deepest in the east, and in the west a mass of orange cloud hung where the sun sank the evening before.

Mist

cloud becomes ground mist
the serpent uncoiling
detached from river stream’s silver scales
eating the green world
swallowing the sun

wild

wild night to be out
blustering warm
and on the hill
the eerie cry of a vixen
carried in the mouth of the wind

gogyohka for flooded ditches

beneath this leaden sky
the water in the ditch
running
forgets to shine
and slides as dull as

Changes

 

a day of early sun
and from a distant tree
the thrush’s song
and everywhere the singing water
running running running

ripple song from bird throat
and ripple sun on water
and grass waving
from silver ditch depths
that yesterday were crisp with frost

winter

winter starts here
in undefined colours damp-smeared
and dipping in and out
of the universal grey-green
the bright piping of undeterred birds

gogyohka for reeds

Inspired by the beautiful photography of this post on Red’s Kingdom blog.

the oneness of the pattern
repetition of design
that sings and weaves
the furred and feathered pelt
of the water