Thursday, 31 March 2011


Along the low wall
purple aubretia creeps
towards April.

Wednesday, 30 March 2011


The extra hour of daylight: squeezed flat by descending black clouds.

Tuesday, 29 March 2011


Outside, the jangling din and vibration of a drill attacking concrete. Inside, the strung-tight tension of jangled minds.    

Monday, 28 March 2011


Above the rooftops,
a steady, expert hand
has painted blue, blue, blue.

Sunday, 27 March 2011

Spring sun, not yet grown

Like a heedless puppy, it plants warm, cushiony, slightly damp paws on my face and licks my nose.

Saturday, 26 March 2011


A flock of gaudy tulips; far above them, a flock of squawking geese.

Friday, 25 March 2011


The hazy almost-warmth of late afternoon: 
a dreamscape seen through a voile curtain.

Thursday, 24 March 2011


The morning cold is shiny with a film of gold and green, melting already. It reminds me of the south of France in winter.

Wednesday, 23 March 2011


A slim young woman in tight, black jeans and teeshirt lopes along. Bare arms - oh my. Smooth, brown arms. No goose pimples.

Tuesday, 22 March 2011


Loud birdsong soars and grates; the air has an edge of sunshine and an edge of cold.

Monday, 21 March 2011


Seared pink salmon with melting yellow plantains, a scattering of peppery rocket leaves and a small glass of bright, slightly flowery Sauvignon.

Sunday, 20 March 2011


The visitors arrange themselves before each painting, posing, then shifting: harmonious and inharmonious tableaux.

Saturday, 19 March 2011

Tangled shadows

The park is all dazzling sunshine: bare trees cast long, tangled shadows that worm their way through crowds of walkers, crowds of daffodils.

Friday, 18 March 2011

The Hare with Amber Eyes

A book that shines: the smooth, cool cover; the thick pile of pages promising story and intelligence.

Thursday, 17 March 2011


The grass is a pale-green sea of dewy sunshine. Near the horizon, a white streak of dog.

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

More like Autumn

A mist that chills and a crying of crows: this is more like Autumn.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011


Morning damp: the budding hedge steams and drips.  A great darkness over the horizon. Here and now, this small cleansing and resurgence.

Monday, 14 March 2011

A day missed

For the first time this year, no small stone of observation. The fear and horror of events in Japan overcame the capacity to be present.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Gooseberry yoghurt

Clean and green; sharp and satiny; sour and creamy: a rare taste whose complexity rivals rhubarb.

Saturday, 12 March 2011


The earth is softening into grass and flowers, while elsewhere it convulses.

Friday, 11 March 2011


A contrail parallels the church spire, then shoots up, up, up towards the sun - a clear, strong line in this mottled morning.

Thursday, 10 March 2011


Outside the shop with the apple-green sign stands a woman in an apple-green coat, and next to her a girl with an apple-green backpack.

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Daffodils, still

Even wider open, they breath and stretch out their petals to the four directions, like a yoga class in two-tone yellow leotards.

Tuesday, 8 March 2011

Dark figures

The naked sun dazzles. Dark figures stalk the sidewalks criss-crossed by their elongated shadows.

Monday, 7 March 2011


Daffodils pose on the windowsill, wide open, chests out, yolk-yellow petals pointing and peering this way and that.

Sunday, 6 March 2011


As the light dies
and the cold pinches,
a long trill from the bare tree.

Saturday, 5 March 2011

Trying to be March

Tiny pockets of blue squeezed between coarse, giant puffs of grey: an undecided sky, sporadically trying to be March.

Friday, 4 March 2011


The bus is on diversion. Suddenly, a strange city, not the daily route imprinted on my expectations, which abruptly flex and flux and readjust.

Thursday, 3 March 2011


The world became quiet and blurry - as though an invisible, compassionate hand had lowered the volume, dimmed the contrast, allowed a weary brain some respite.  

Wednesday, 2 March 2011

Cold night

The return of cold: skin shrivels; breath rises like puffs of smoke in the black chill.

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

Yellow legs

A tiny girl overtakes me on her scooter, yellow-stockinged leg pumping vigorously.