TWITTERKU

Drop a stone
     to mark the day
Scattering gravel
     on the way

morningporch:

I’m beginning to distinguish individual locomotives by their whistles. The majority merely say “look out,” but a few almost manage “I am.”

As I reach for sleep

Raindrops smatter the rooftop

Soporifically

From Ariel via text msg.

She sits, limp paw raised.

My hand gently seeks what hurts.

Thorn out she runs off.

Empty nesting box

Were the Ospreys blown away?

Violent thunder storm

Reading Walt Whitman

Two does break from the pond bank:

Sun-dappled June woods.

Dogs in the thicket

While Brere Fox lopes down the road -

Treats them like giant pups.

All night, this headland
Lunges into the rumpling
Capework of the wind.
Richard Wilbur, 1976

Rain forest walking

Ferns unfurl crystaline green

New life amoung us

Sent by Abi Hicks from New Zealand via BlackBerry

Through blue silk, her thigh,

Brushed by the back of my hand,

Scorched in memory.

In dreams I prowl

Through streets and dark corridors

Stalking my sweet prey.