an eagle’s feather
a spotted feather also
share my writing space
* * *
*
artichoke purple
tiny tentacles pointing
to an Autumn sun
* * *
*
kind grey light today
I’m alone in the garden
watching things changing
*
a silent garden
soft water, the only sound
nature shows the way
***
***
(On visiting James Joyce’s grave)
*
coffee-cup landscape
white heather tied up with string
laid upon a stone
***
*
I treasure this pen
like Phoenix in the ashes
coming back to life
***
the sun tries its best
to push through an opaque sky
blue islands appear
* * *
haiku on your back
pressing my fingers to count
touching syllables…
*
*
a porcelain sky
the mountain has disappeared
teaching us to trust
*
* * *
