Morning post

hoarfrosted contours

time served by seasons

in another life

.

.

.

Just

It’s intriguing how movement can turn one thing into another…

A sudden start
as the passing wind
of preceding cars
eddies squirrel shimmies
from an unseen discard,
and the label, darker
than a clear bottle,
squirms a small
mammal’s jig.

Fists clench wheel,
I’m ready to pedal hard,
hazard up-thumb mercy,
break and clutch and pray
for life. But, no.
Time split squints
and it’s empty dead,
just more trash,
more unkillable
plastic.

.

.

.

Struck

Very pleased to have ‘Struck’ published at the Poetry Shed. 

This one was inspired by an object shown to me many years ago by the very knowledgable Sandy Edwards, who was curator of the Bell Pettigrew Natural History Museum at the time. Since then I have (amongst other things!) spent many years being fortunate enough to do ‘media odd jobs’ for researchers involved in studying the scope and meaning of sounds made by marine mammals. My knowledge of what they do is slight, but I continue to find what they discover remarkable and inspiring.

old post

windstream whittled

boundary lines surrendered

sculpture on the way

.

.

.

 

Gallery

Something a little different – a gallery with an assortment of some of the images and montages that I’ve made to illustrate this blog over the past wee whiley …

Chuck Wagon crossing The Great Scots Pine

The island of Macgyver

Montage

Found art

A poppy pin.
Fallen, rainwashed,
Rusted, gathered,
Repinned, raindropped.
A tiny lamp relit.

.

.

.

.

.

 

Survival kit

Survival Kit

A story is commuted,
In unusual company,
Of a forgotten briefcase.