Friday, 10th January

Raindrops rap a message on the window:
This is your life
and this
and this
and this –
pay attention!

Thursday, 9th January

The sky is an ebony table.
The moon, a rice bowl
knocked over by a cat.

Wednesday, 8th January

this water
warming my hands 
through rubber gloves
smells like a lemon grove
on a summer's evening

Three impressions from an evening walk

a Mother Goose moon above cobbled streets
the scent of woodsmoke

*

a stranger's smile
fills my heart with helium

*

as I walk under a streetlamp
an unseen thrush
fast-forwards the dawn

Monday, 6th January

Tiger-coated, he prowls outside the window,
broad paws padding the ground,
shoulder muscles rippling;
around his neck
a heart-shaped tag reads 'Bubbles'.

Number two

It stands alone on the street corner, perfectly rectangular, its front door central and bright blue, its square windows evenly spaced, its roof featureless apart from a chimney at one end. A child's drawing brought to life.