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Redwings
By noon the light was in retreat the nagging wind swung east, north-east its oscillations conjured more ice from air to add to morning’s thick frost still laid below hedges trinketed with hips and haws that baited flocks of redwings whose fluted chirps and piped notes added winter music to this rime and brought vibrancy →
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Lockdown 3 (Day 26): Yaxham
I cycled west from Norwich deeper into the heart of East Anglia. I passed poultry farms and great swathes of open fields, solid flint wall churches with square towers, wind turbines, solar panels and the remains of at least one war time airfield. The old road was marked by roughly estimated mile stones. On one →
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Lockdown 3 (Day 20) Thorpe Saint Andrew
Trip trap, trip trap over the bridge I went to explore the more urban side of the river. Crossing the bridge was the easy bit. After that the carefully salted pavements and cycle tracks had iced over again and reset as black ice. The sapphire blue sky and dazzling sunlight was the cue for blue →
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Lockdown 3 (Day 18) On the Streets
By the time I was ready to get out all light had gone from the sky, bar a faint patch to the south-west above the trees on Carrow Hill. My brisk march lasted ninety minutes, during which I discovered some of the poshest streets of Norwich. They lie beyond the medieval walls, strung out on →
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Lockdown 3 (Day 17) In Sunshine
My apartment faces south, but is overshadowed by the flats built over the atrium at the front and on its east side. This means no morning light reaches me directly and I have to pull the curtain across to assess the weather. Today the sunlight was blasting down King Street. I just had to leap →
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Lockdown 3 (Day 16) Behind the Mask
Out briefly today in sunshine. I forgot my gloves, but was surprised by the mildness of the air. People maintaining good distances from each other; joggers running well wide of pedestrians; people stepping back to let others pass. There is no rush when people are on foot. A taxi driver tries to squeeze past me →
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Piped Dreams
The door clicks a jar compresses the draught to a whistle that wakes me from your arms, her arms, my brother’s hand I held through a summer night in the respiratory ward down the corridor from coronary care where he would be the next summer and no one could visit while he dreamt of life →
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Lockdown 3 (Day 9) In the Rain
I went out to deliver a loaf of bread and spent time talking with my friend who was taking a few moments outside her front door taking in the bizarre combination of fresh air and tobacco smoke. She smokes quite theatrically, turning her head to the side when exhaling the toxic gases she has moments →
Journey of Words 