Thursday, 3 December 2015


It bugged me at the beginning;
Relying on other peoples wells
To quench my thirst. My own
Myriad ran dry.
I crouched, over
Other people’s supplies;
Drawing up slowly, as
Droplets fell back down
Causing plopping sounds....
I watched as the ripples,
Awakened something inside
That cool shimmering rim.
Can’t begin to tell you
How it felt, after being
Empty for so long.

Monday, 2 November 2015



She waited for me to admire the house
While I absorbed the trees along her lane
I was never invited back again.
kicking leave’s beneath my feet;
Chestnuts sticky and sweet, sycamore
Seeds cascading the air;

Hair full off twigs. My school friend
Didn’t care for the wild things, that
Autumn brings. Watching, while I jumped;
Shaking conkers from trees.
Not one bit pleased.

Tuesday, 13 October 2015



It is easier to be on the edge
Than to be in the middle of things,
But today I thought I’d say
‘Thank you’ to everyone,

To land fleetingly; someone
Who gives and takes nourishment -

Saturday, 5 September 2015



I think of childhood
Jumping streams.
A day that began in
Day dream. I loved
That mid-air feeling
A shore footed landing
On the other side.

Life was like that at
Twelve years old
Bravely challenging
Balancing harvesting
Wonder. Put me in a
Class in a uniform
Of cute chatter
And I fell mid-stream.

I stood there among peers
In their neat clipped
Lives, along stuffy
Corridors. Out of
The whole class,
I was always first,

Out through the door when
The bell woke me.

Tuesday, 9 June 2015



That reach is what I remember –

In a time that stretched
Like a distant ball
Of childhood
Clasped in both hands;

A globe of time
Endless sunsets;
The rapture of unreserved

No trials to drag one down
Only team-mates and the ball;
The occasional stumble of pain cured
By the purgative power of play.

In adulthood - the hour
Gets shorter; led
Like sheep to the slaughter;
Too many rules -

Deprived of time and its tools,
They say - hardship keeps us
on the ball,
But these days -

I don’t like it when I fall.


Saturday, 11 April 2015



The wind shakes thoughts,
While plant-pots scatter.

The sharp air takes the breath - she gathers
Her cardigan to her chest; hair blown into knots -
She pushes it back off her face - seeds cling to her feet
The others she carries on her shoulders.

Then there are the ones with wings; swirling and twirling -
Through the harsh sun-winds. They stick to the fabric
Of her nature. Most ground themselves;
Some will grow.

These will be nurtured 
As they came from the earth,
As more seeds sow inside - the winds tear and tear.

She cares - even about the nettles
Which sting the senses into words;
They can be eaten - like your words.
Honey-smoothed to make a rhyme,
Stick in the memory of time…

Saturday, 21 February 2015


The cold miserable rain spits at me

It turns to hail and hits me; I wish
My old bones were stronger.
I remember racing down this hill on sunnier days,
The sky was always

Bluer, smiling on me, a younger self.
Now the rain won’t let up, to leave
Me in peace, to make my way home to my fields.

If I don’t get to my beloved farm soon:
I fear I will die of the cold dampness.
Through rain there
My rugged stone walls,

The ones my husband built, where hens jumped
And wild flowers grew, where smile lines
Etched my face.

Now cold wind tears like sharp stones.
When I stumble, I claw earth.
Tears mingle with rain. This is not the first time
I’ve tended to wander;

Wishing to be safe, warm in my lonely marital bed.
I rise, a moor-hen screeches, a hare bounds lightly.