The sky draws a line under lifeless cloudsas if the day is over:witch-green, layered timestepping meanly backwards,hiding the lightbehind jailer voiceswhile meadowed horses wait to be released and the promised hour is swallowedby grey land – old hoofprints heading plainly for…
Read: British Winter Time
You’re walking down this suburban street. Technically it’s a village: it has a village green and an old church. But it’s attached to a city – there’s no countryside in between; so I think it’s fair to say it’s a…
The wind again todayslithers and hisses like an angry snakethrough cracks and alleyways The limes and beeches bow before it,shedding their outer garmentsin homageas the rain falls and falls likeunstoppable tears You say: Grief comesin great gusts to blow you…
Read: The wind and the rain
I am now locked down, though I don’t feel any different. Yesterday I took the car for an MOT, not because I was panicking but because that was the day I booked it in, about a month ago. I went…