lowly woodlouse 

not even the cat bothers

just watching

 winter swimming

my fingers are sausages

my toes are white

 i can see the sea

it looks very cold to me

are you sure

 these latter days

so many ends of the road 

where next pray say

 so many faces

stone cold in the snow

with frozen smiles

 frosted wall

it takes an ungloved hand

to really know

 Late January

the snow is melting again

I peel some parsnips

 snow and soft music

the up and down escalators 

of the morning

 in your shrine

the bell curve of hope

takes toll

 one of them moments

when you stop and look and think

and then it is gone

 give me some stones

mortar of an idea

i’ll build a tower

the spider rescued

i can soak in the bath

all pink and wrinkled