boring journey 

every unimportant thing

seems significant 

 in the orchard 

the smell of a garden fire

lazy afternoon 

one flower 

at the base of the wall

in the sunshine  

 wriggling my toes in

the warm sand of memory 

the tide turns

 slow dawn

a movement in the trees

imperceptible 

 surely 

just one more piece of forest 

cannot hurt

 a cobweb

in the blue sky

caught my eye

 the trees grow

the path moves

time passes

 even without 

a shred of common sense 

profound thoughts come

 deep breath

on a flower morning

warming

 a butterfly 

on the dusty path

waiting 

 summer sea

all that glitters

is not cold

 how they tickle

all these strange words

dancing

no sleep for me tonight

the pen moon is rising

 pleasantly lost

amongst the sage flowers

blue thoughts

 gardening

work a little sit a little

growing thoughts

 new insulin

my expectations 

rise and fall

 i read

that the writer

was dead

 two flies

meet on a dandelion 

at lunchtime 

 light rain

always waiting for something

i feel it

nettles

taking a sting

for a long walk 

 to an ant

the sleeping cat

is a dragon

 damsel fly

alone on the pagoda 

you are the buddha 

 three daisies

alongside the cat’s tail

gentle breeze

 summer morning 

the nettles are as high

as my blood sugar

 insurmountable 

is a torn flag

i did it

 japanese painting

there is no start or finish

to the misty river

 in the heavy rain 

the lake raises its voice 

many tears

 black window

bald head

full moon

 avant-garde an interesting pastime 

 holiday time

the temple overflowing

tranquil city

 endless kindling

for a bonfire of clichés

such as this

 that garden moment

when the only thing moving

is the music

 every sea

i always ask myself

could i 

 i’m waiting for my timer to go off

 morning sunshine

the shadow of a bird

crosses Buddha’s face

crematoria

we all do our bit

global warming 

 the hermit 

looking at a lone pine tree

are you lonely

 deviating

what comes after the red graph

we asked the prophet

 the blood of war

from far across the cold seas

the sun rises

 global warming 

the hearse goes electric

woodland burial

 two blackbirds

fighting in the apple tree

start a snowstorm

 the chapel of rest is locked 

 dogs with coats

make their owners feel warm

down paradise road

 the stars are all suns

never could i connect with that 

in all this blackness

 threading down

from the high clematis

a tiny spider

 in the cemetery 

a woodpecker is coughing

i am listening

 sea thrift

ten thousand fists

beat the wind

 why is the sea always waiting

 your jigsaw

does not make my picture

shall we swop pieces

 there are

many green places

in the city

 when my mum

bought me a davey crocket hat

i was davey crocket

 by the spume off the waves do we know the wind

 the promise 

of my walking stick

waiting in the corner 

 early summer rain

too many drips to count

a deep green well

 sunshine

the aroma of fresh bread rolls

into the garden

 a spider

and the wind chime

turning a corner

 what would it be like

to be an ant running

in the sunshine

 climate change tweets

all the stations of the cross

to armageddon 

 the guide 

has the keys to the castle

if you follow me

 scratched knees 

at the top of life’s mountain 

a super view

 blossoms fall

some to rain some to wind

all is sunshine 

 running 

with my hand along the daisies

soft thoughts

this garden

a prison for these flowers

wind dispersal

 falling for the girl 

in the pink dressing gown

cherry blossoms

inch by inch

towards the precipice 

prescience steps