coming back to us

out of the mist

our ghost selves

full moon

the white of the page

between chapters

found between the pages

my late mother's bookmark

leather, and on it the words

here's where I fell asleep

the web glistens

the spider has caught only

the morning mist

at the side of the road, fragments

of a shattered sun

my grey head

its Cloud of Unknowing

thicker than ever

in all directions

the forest tracks lead only deeper

into autumn

bearing the weight of the wind

all the forest's slender pines

breath. tide. moon

silent, motionless, deserted

the funfair - at noon

it all continues

only the clock has stopped

the moment

before a falling leaf

touches the water

wire

He tried to read a long line of black birds on the telephone wire but the sentence they formed was largely indecipherable.

the house (& me)

deeper into autumn's

clicks & creaks

a robin

in a shaft of sunlight

watching

struggling from the pile

a dry leaf -

a moth

my thoughts

this way and that

eddying leaves

sunday morning

chasing windblown scraps of sleep

in vain

knot again !

mischievous brambles

have loosened my bootlaces

autumn

birdsong snagged

on brambles

the boy

walks on his dad's shadow

laughing

safari

They sat in the car, looking out across the plain where

herds of yellow diggers and earthmovers grazed. He was enthralled. For a four year old boy, this was a safari.

i missed our rendezvous

at the full of the moon

and now she turns away

thoughts that snag

and tangle - a head full

of brambles

found among

the swept up leaves

discarded birdsong

the stone a dry leaf scrapes

a bonfire

burning the end

of summer

nightfall

watching the moon

become itself

tonight i am

more distant from myself

than that cold star

the stillness a white rose shatters