On Hope

see, you have survived

but how was this possible?

your heart was broken

~

CLP 20/07/2021

Love #1

I miss you, Grandpa

opened the dusty window

turned the rusty key

~

CLP 16/06/2021

Dream #19

flying with brothers and sisters

screams of joy

uncontrollable giggles

screaming with brothers and sisters

pained by absence

collapsed in holes of grief

uncontrollable brothers and sisters

scoured by loss

wandering like orphaned kittens

absence of brothers and sisters

~

CLP 15/06/2021

On Water xx

sorting through shingle

picking out perfect pebbles

stones skimming off waves

.

CLP 28/04/2021

On Pain

What hurts us the most:

wounds inflicted by others;

seeing one’s own faults?

~

CLP 22/04/2021

L3 (Day 76): Holt

Are these people showing off about not having Covid, or has the local sub-editor got a sick sense of humour, riffing on the vulnerability of olfactory and gustatory senses in these coronavirus times?

Here, there is a growing feeling of cabin fever mixed with de-mob happiness. Is the prima donna yet ready for la grande finale?

~

CLP 23/03/2021

L3 (Day 65): Carrow

The early evening cloud forms a shape reminiscent of the Horsehead Nebula.

The national news today is confirmation of the murder of a young woman unknown to me. My heart aches for her loss, her family and friends.

~

CLP 12/03/2021

On Life

Unclear as they seem

we have links to each other.

Connection or chain?

~

n.b. Choose, if you can.

~

CLP 07/03/2021

L3: Day 58 (Wensum Park)

Swans gather by the park. A grandfather with the little ones of his family distributing bread. Ducks and gulls collect on the water, not forgetting sparrows on the river bank. Sparrows, love ’em!

~

CLP 05/03/2021

L3 (Day 30): Betula Pendula

Along with buddleja, the silver birch, (betula pendula) is often the first tree to set down roots and become established in the most unlikely situations. It grows fast and its white bark seems to split under the stress of holding the slender trunk together as it shoots up. It quickly becomes a tree of ornamental interest, with its beautifully shaped, serrated leaves, that turn from soft green to shimmering autumn gold before being shed.

Its adaptability and aesthetic appeal makes it an attractive specimen to plant when landscaping newly developed building plots in temperate climates.

Even a tree so slight in appearance brings a sense of permanence to a location. It breaks up the urban landscape, provides colour and natural shade in summer. Its leaves play with the light, like the sea, they dance to the vicissitudes of the weather and in winter their absence allows what light and warmth there is to pass through.

In contrast I sense that I have lived my recent years as if I am a tumbleweed.

Wikipedia states: A tumbleweed is a structural part of the above-ground anatomy of a number of species of plants, a diaspore that, once it is mature and dry, detaches from its root or stem, and rolls due to the force of the wind.

This windblown existence is how the plant distributes its seed and reproduces. I do not see any correlation between my life and this aspect of the tumbleweed life cycle, but the detachment at the point of ‘maturity’, the hollowed out centre and endless shifting on the breath of a breeze is me and this cannot continue.

For a wanderer like me, the idea of being able to adjust and settle and make a home is to be respected, but is it possible? Can a tumbleweed become a silver birch?

~

CLP 04/02/2021