A scrabble of whirlygig seeds lying on a cinder path











It is human nature to look for patterns, to see words in the random letters formed by fallen whirlygig seeds. Well so it seemed to me as I looked for something more than f and v.

cold and damp
the muted chatter of birds
this May day

Just 10 days to completion and we move out of the family home to flats on Streatham Hill; back from the sought after shoreline of Tooting Bec Common and bijou Balham.

Sometimes it all makes perfect sense and then other times no sense at all. ‘Who shook the tree?’ he cried, ‘Not I’, said she.

slow train to Balham
a dandelion clock trembles
in long green grass

‘Twas I’.

‘Easily led’, the school master said …

beyond the fallen tree
green blades twitch beneath
an empty bench


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