Original photography
The pool water
Memory of winter
Promise of spring
Soft spring
Pearled morning dew shines
The fresh worm piles
A few pink blossoms
Their summer frocks
The rising sap
Turning into spring
The worms are making hills
In the morning dew
On the instep
A small blue swallow tattoo
Heading north
Spring is here
Two ducks in the bathing pond
Only have eyes for you
Gnarls Barkley
The relief on the weathered skin
Of an old oak tree
??
Spring football
The touchline between players
And a girl’s smile
The pitted road
Washed by Spring rain
Sunlight and shadow
Spring morning
Peeling back the sheets
On the old billboard
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Last week it felt as if spring was being kept on the bench but this Sunday it was warming up on the touchline: sunshine football games, joggers with a spring in their step and the pool temperature rising.
Mother’s Day
The water in the pool
Softer
A quickening light
In the air the first bumblebee
Waved away
A day of rest
Propping up the posts
The goalkeeper
On the edge
Frozen in warm sunshine
A watching squirrel
I was told this story at the Lido. A lifeguard liked eating smelly fish like smoked mackerel. When the summer season was over, the part-timers who were leaving, decided to play a trick on him. They bought fresh mackerel and hid them in the office and behind his locker. The winter season started and as time went by the fish began to stink but no-one knew where the smell was coming from. It was bad and the person who told me this story asked the lifeguard if he’d noticed and whether it bothered him. He replied that he couldn’t smell anything.
First come the snowdrops and crocuses and then the yellow flowers. Daffodils and Forsythia brave the end of winter while the Magnolia buds swell with anticipation. These are a few haiku attempts around this theme:
Huddled together
the bitter winter wind
Clumping daffodils
End of winter
A pale green and yellow
Beneath bare trees
After snowdrops
So comes the daffodils
The changing lights
Winter’s journey
Snowdrops nod lazily
In a chill breeze
Biding time
The magnolia buds arrested
In a bitter snap
A gliding swan
Watching the magnolia buds
Beneath the surface
Waiting on the cusp
Of winter and spring
The point of a daffodil
Winter’s spring
Rising in no man’s land
The young daffodil
A winter’s bed
The daffodil emerges from the mud
Wrapt in pale green
Cold grey sky
Out of a long brown winter
The yellow
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