Doggerel

Woke late and hoped
the ceiling might
have painted itself
overnight
- white

Peering round
the corner I
recall the adage
pigs might fly
- sigh

Horizon

What is there to say
when this grey november day
meets my mourning mood...

Autumn Dusk

November -
Heavy the light-leaving late
among the trees
All around the
creaking sound
of dying wood...
you like to meet with me
where the buds of next year's
new beginnings
are crowding to be heard..

5 am Sleepless Storm

Senses out on stalks -
tasting with my fingertips,
listening with my tongue..
Eyes wide I
scent the wildness of the world