nape of your neck

in the foothills of desire

a kiss trickles

 lit by a sunbeam

down behind the log fire

a cobweb 

 so you are dead

one hundred sacks of a life

have passed away

 a sunbeam

kiss me quick

now slowly

 so many faces 

the dead seen are everywhere

not one is alive

your yorkshire terrier

just ate my aching heart

i so long to write

 cemetery 

in the bare trees

a woodpecker

 extraction

old man tries to brush a tooth

that isn’t there

 childhood photos

not knowing it was the past 

just then

 childhood cartoons

one of the voices has died

and also my dreams

 walking on old roots

talking to my friend the tree

treading carefully

 my wife

in the next room

likes ❤️ my tweets

 theatres of war

the carnage of espionage 

spying for covid

 the sun 

a red wall

is afire

 sun is out at last

the birds get on with nesting

cheer up cheer up

 cleaning our glasses

we avoid loving glances

for a while

 red tear

upon the camellia wind

such sorrow

 daffodils

man in the hi viz jacket

mends my internet 

 mars landing

360 around the garden

surmising 

 yeast of the sunrise 

the blackbird rats across the patio

faster than a rat

 etc etc

all along the tide line

et cetera

 glorious sunrise

raining by coffee time

sipping it down now

 the world is dying

no one will be left to say

he was a poet

 lockdown

a jet overhead

the cat runs in

 haiku

a small bigness of smallness

bud on a bonsai

 after my bath

i sit and compose haiku 

about my swim

 they say that 

when he sits alone he asks 

who are they

 a thought

leaves upon a breeze

then another

 oh to be that rock

flying through space forever

in the dark

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 black and white photo

kiss me quick hat at the fair

i colour up

lighting a candle

i find the spiders house

inside my house 

 after a sea swim

using my back scratcher 

a big smile 

 fallen tree

the path takes a diversion 

through the wild garlic 

 the giant wave

the one i dare not enter

the bird flies over

 i’ll sit here until a thought takes me

 this wind

neither winter or spring

but buds

 vaccinated

I am now a statistic

of the better kind

 oh those children 

sometimes so very cruel

i was once a child

how cruel to remember

sometimes we were to

 after a sea swim

the curry is simmering 

warm expectations 

 it’s landed!

my wife’s covid jab

out of this world

 all the moon poems and now Mars

 darkness the down in light’s blanket

 heavy rain

the wood pigeon shelters

under one wing

 sunshine at last

the gravestones are warming

a woodpecker knocks

 after a cold swim

all the aches and pains go

and then come back

 ripple fishing

floating a moon poem

waiting for bites

 magpies

de-twigging winter trees

nesting time

 mist trees

making nothing deep

deeper

 ahh a cake knife

ever so aunt Agatha

thank you Jeeves 

 kneading the dough

the cat circles to sleep

a winter’s afternoon

 misreading -

a line in a poem

becomes a poem

 cat photograph 

trying to orientate

yoga poses

to love is to go

there and back again

and there just there

 everything in threes

and you can count on the cat

to respond

 first flakes

the countdown begins

a cold swim

 the dead poets

we try to read their faces

they never reply

 yoga pose

a giant spider walks past

the up cat

 beast from the east

even the dogs pee is frozen

a bracing sea swim

 haiku

will it be a big book?

asks the child

all of my sadness

given to the sea’s indifference 

for safe keeping 

 what are words but magnets to constrain the torus of a thought

 the dead spider

spinning on a cobweb

lives twice

 maybe

counting the first snowflakes 

maybe

 art nouveau 

with tiles missing

yesterday’s film

 I am the pebble 

on the bottom of the pool

talking of ripples

 the snow is coming

look how the sky grows heavy

children learn patience

 out late with my pals

look how far our torches shine

misty evening

wet day

the cat counts rain rings

all afternoon 

 filling the bath

checking that the crumb

is not a spider

 snow

changes everything

mo ment arily 

 mount fuji you are

bigger than a small haiku

mount fuji you are

smaller than a big haiku

often clouded in snow

 how often do dreams 

end in the death of a day 

deepening in snow

 snow

changes everything

mo ment arily 

 counting sleep

maybe maybe maybe

tomorrow 

mount fuji you are

bigger than a small haiku

mount fuji you are

smaller than big haiku

often clouded in snow