On Rain VIII

Hard notes on tin roof



to gether

– joined





n.b. Today water proof clothing required.

CLP 28/05/2019

On Rain VII

Remember such drops

Cold globular spots

That flick eye-lashes


n.b. This morning there was sufficient rainfall to damp down the dust; slicken the grass; to leave minute craters marking the impact of the fleeting shower that soon passed.

CLP 27/05/2019

On Rain VI

Humidity high

Seventy percent or more

Yet dust devils spin



On Open Ground

Hind steps from bracken

Edges to field centre

Grazes in full view


n.b. Have you noticed that deer do this? They often choose a wide open area to settle down, eating and resting in a place that allows them to be easily seen, but allowing themselves time and space to respond to approaching threats. Safer to be out there and able to breathe fully exposed, than to be living constantly nervous of being caught when confined under cover.

CLP 27/05/2019

On Rain V

Strung across the yard

Today’s washing dries in minutes

Clouds heavy, hang limp


CLP 25/05/2019

On Rain VI

One hundred percent

Cloud cover at dawn, moist air

Nothing more offered


n.b. Rain on Tuesday is the best the weather forecast can promise. If there was a competitive market for rain I would change my supplier.

Privatised water management companies will profit regardless. Government intervention is required to ensure that commercial interests do not override the need to conserve and recycle water.

Who owns UK water boards sold off by Conservative free market ideologists?

Read more about this issue here and here One of the owners is an investment fund that employs a former UK Chancellor of The Exchequer, George Osbourne, (another snout in the water trough). More information here.


CLP 25/05/2019

On Rain III

Full Sun and half Moon

Dress the early morning sky

Clouds dissolve to blue


n.b. Breakfast can be taken outside again with shirt off. To the west there is no sign of precipitation. Dunnock, pigeon and the young sparrow hawks nesting in the adjacent hedgerow join the sparrows in chorus. Is it a rain song?

Yesterday children around the world took time out of school to re-iterate that teaching them the same old shit isn’t going to address the climate crisis that threatens their futures.


On Rain

Green and pleasant land

Rivers run shallow, grass weak

Flaming June due next


n.b. We need rain and lots of it. The promised low pressure by-passed South-West England. The concrete water troughs that collect the run-off from the barn roof are markedly lower, a ring of algae marks the recent high water level. The Dowlish is so low that many of the stones on the river bed are exposed. Grass-fed animals need a healthy variety in the sward to thrive, but in these dry conditions not all grass types will prosper as they have done historically.

Meanwhile Somerset gears up for the next Glastonbury Festival at which 175,000 (!!!) people will need water for drinking, washing, cleaning and toilet flushing. The local water table needs this drain on resources like a hole in a bucket.

CLP 23/05/2019

On Thermals

Roundels on fanned wings

Clockwise spiral up on high

In sight; out of reach


n.b. A buzzard new to this part of the country, with distinctive creamy roundels, eventually disappeared from view high above, ascending on a rising pocket of hot air, (that brought some gulls drifting in from the coast). The buzzard soared with its primary feathers extended.

I have never seen such markings as these roundels on a buzzard. She will be easily recognised should she ever return here; should she ever return to Earth.


CLP 21/05/2019


It was Mrs Howard who Love taught me

In the temporary classroom

Sat on the rugby field

Her love of Love and its expression

From the page in gently found words

Spoken In bright metaphors

And subtle allusions


She spoke to me of hidden themes

And how a phrase could mean so much

How a rhyme can unlock the heart

Or harden up that vital muscle

To misunderstanding

And ill-focused yearning


She hooked me in

Close by the Itchen River’s bank

A young rainbow trout lifted up

From its soggy bed

On a fly fisher’s sharp whip

I was spotted, baited

Hungry to be caught and taught

To engage with finer forms

Than all those scawny spratts

With whom I’d been engaged before

Directed to gods, war, injustice

We were un-schooled

In more urgent places

Behind softly closed doors

Beneath blankets of meaning

Where bodies of learning could be openly studied

At length; in depth


It was not a coy mistress

Who opened Love to me

Her joy of Love

Without ambiguity

Writ large in her notes

Like billets doux that pointed me

Towards insights and Passion’s feelings

Mrs Howard my teacher

So pure and simple.


n.b. Paul Gordon and I formed “The Mrs Howard Appreciation Society” of which we two were, (dare I write it), the only members. She was a great teacher and we never thought of her lustfully. She was just a lovely person with a gift for sharing her love of poetry. Thank you, Mrs Howard, where ever you are.


n.n.b. NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 28 prompt: Write a poem about writing poems 🙄. Like writing songs about writing songs, this is navel gazing of sorts, which in the right company is a pleasant enough pastime I suppose.


CLP 28/04/2019