• on gratitude

    no moment wastedbeautiful companionbring on tomorrow ~ CLP 22/01/2022

  • on Ukraine iii

    Pennines overlookdarts refining their dark artsmuscles flex, nerves twitch ~ n.b. As we move around in our masks, military aircraft just above our heads operate on stand-by. Out of Plan B into Wing Attack Plan R? ~ CLP 21/01/2022

  • on time

    Friday, what the Fbreak open the bub-ber-leybirthday train ride ~ n.b. Not mine. Happy Birthday, mush. “Twenty past Ten; get the Scooby Snacks owat!” n.n.b. “Owat” translates to ‘out’ further south in England. CLP

  • on Ukraine ii

    if Russia invadeswe’ll respond aggressivelycollateral damned ~ n.b. Someone factors in civilian deaths, which will mean children, mothers, grandparents, lovers, fathers, sons, daughters. ~ CLP 21/01/2022

  • on Ukraine

    so loud I can’t thinkof anyone else but youRAF practice ~ n.b. On the border, on the edge, on the verge…Russian troops run through a few drills. Here, in Norfolk, fighter jets likewise. What would you be thinking if you were sending your children off to school in Kyiv this morning? ~ CLP 20/01/2022

  • on rain

    with tails turned windwardgulls hunch shoulders, form huddlegusts tug at mastheads ~ CLP 20/01/2022

  • on dawn

    grass sparks, smoulders, smokesbrittle chaffinch call echoesnight’s pale shroud lifted ~ CLP 20/01/2022

  • on love

    please don’t call nowit cost a lifetime last timeleft me counting days ~ CLP 19/01/2022

  • on light

    I rose to meet hershe winked at me through thin treeslost her by sunrise ~ n.b. The full, silver moon led me across town before slipping away – a merry, chilly dance! CLP 18/01/2022

  • on flight

    I stopped by the lip of the citywhere the lines to London curl southbreathed in the spacefelt the frost in my throatby the derelict sitemore fenced-off car parking than I imaginedexpanse of redundant concretesplit by grasses at its seamsreflecting the January Sun’s warmthenough to creat sufficient turbulanceto lift the buzzardsthey spiralled upwards into the bluethen