Plop!

I'm at a loss
I don't know what to say -
Something profound
before I go away?
A stone to ripple far and wide and deep?
I need to sleep!





(I've really enjoyed the virtual meeting of so many fellow stoners!)

this treasure

Arts workshop open day
drumming heart
feet of clay

two's company

Hubby's stretched out
on the sofa
the dog's stretched out
on the floor
I'm sitting here
on the MacBook
watching
the pair of them
snore

pedlar

I watch
as he opens the pack
demonstrates its properties
on my tarnished brass
looks up expectantly...
I nod
and smile
extract a note
and purchase
the "AMAZING"
household cleaner
for triple
the cost of
the old brass bell
bargained for
at the flea market
last month

snatched

Fire's burning,
contented dog spread out..
DVD's loaded...
hubby's gone for wine...
time for mine
(stone, that is)

on the prowl

my eyes open
in the darkest hour

my ears hear
the mocking bark of a fox at the gate

sifting the debris
of yesterday

shalom

We broke the bread
I tore a chunk
and chewed and wept
and wept and chewed

You passed the cup
I took a gulp
and knew my life and soul
renewed

sad

I've slipped behind..
somehow I find it hard
to share the sadder side
of life

skimming

fingers hover

hesitate

words form in black and white

a stone?

no

desperate

...__________

As the sun sets
parallel lines streak
across the sky
dot - dot - dotting
into oblivion

inner healing

.....beautiful in the eye of the beholder
....are the wounds
....that are healed

a walk

the hazel catkins

swaying freely in the breeze

were small and tight

and self contained

just yesterday

16th Jan

rich, dark mud,
sculpted by tractor wheels,
snakes into the distance

15th. Jan

those pale hands,
gnarled and knotted now,
once pounded terry towelling nappies in a belfast sink,
wringing them out with a strong deft twist,
hanging them out to dry in the summer breeze
of yesteryear

From a window

traffic surges through the landscape

starlings stream across the sky

which tide to take...?

shared lunch

mixing salad
toasting pitta
listening
to daughters chatter

my cup runneth over

I'm fibbing

I

had

never

heard of a

fib before today

well, not in that sense anyway

Fable

watching a crow
tossed by the wind
mutely clinging to its prize
I think of Aesop

new every morning

the morning light is fresh

and new

the daytime carpet

midnight blue

an open door

the only clue

to burning midnight oil

with you

to be

the grace to be
the space to become
is all I ask

reflections

reflections from the pond
dance upon the wall
a river of light

Interrupted

I stare into the mist,
focused, focusing...
a sniff
a tread upon the stair
an arm about my shoulder...
what can I say?

stream of consciousness

winding up the Christmas decorations
my mind rewinds
remembers the fingers that have touched upon
this fragile rainbow stream

honing

emerging at dawn
drifting through cobwebs
she sharpens her stone