Thursday, 4 March 2021

 ashes

the log fire is cold

again


winter log pile 

getting smaller by the day

longer and longer


a pair of tits 

buds bursting in the hazel

all over the place


bouncing around

winter tits in the hazel

are so busy


bottom water

the moon loosens its grip

on the starfish


vacuum

almost nothing

is sacred


buds buds buds

a thousand shades of green

the birds are singing


rest in peace 

but the obituaries 

never do


brighter and brighter

daffodils raise their heads

the rain has stopped

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