Driving back from the coast
the sky melting in three levels of cloud
On the horizon, a striped pink curtain hangs then
Layers of washes, bleeding and running upwards where
high cumulo nimbus, Payne's Grey, almost
solid, dark overhead. Yet the land is illuminated.
Oxford Castle taken by Niamh
Showing posts with label #smallstone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #smallstone. Show all posts
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
18th January 2012
Japanese Garden
Leaves collected in the fall
and put into a press, the better to keep the crimson and orange
of the Japanese maples; and the yellow gold ginkgo fans.
I got them out today
the fall's embers in winter
and the bamboo spears still spring green.
Leaves collected in the fall
and put into a press, the better to keep the crimson and orange
of the Japanese maples; and the yellow gold ginkgo fans.
I got them out today
the fall's embers in winter
and the bamboo spears still spring green.
17th January 2012
Le debris d'un poete
Le poete
ramasse ses feuilles
en reprend une
une autre
les poemes
des plumes qui tombent
en l'air
forme d'effraie.
image: http://www.doeni.gov.uk/niea/biodiversity/sap_uk/key_species_barn_owl.htm
Le poete
ramasse ses feuilles
en reprend une
une autre
les poemes
des plumes qui tombent
en l'air
forme d'effraie.
image: http://www.doeni.gov.uk/niea/biodiversity/sap_uk/key_species_barn_owl.htm
Monday, 16 January 2012
Sunday, 15 January 2012
15th January 2012
In memoriam
Near the windmill
The sweet chestnut tree
Leafless now, planted
in memory of her mother.
In Lunigiana,
I have seen a chestnut leaf
in the base of each round loaf.
In Spring
we should bake bread.
Near the windmill
The sweet chestnut tree
Leafless now, planted
in memory of her mother.
In Lunigiana,
I have seen a chestnut leaf
in the base of each round loaf.
In Spring
we should bake bread.
Saturday, 14 January 2012
January 14th 2012
Blood Oranges
A Sicilian fruit.
Oranges, suffused with a modest blush.
Cut them open and they bleed.
But that's our thing.
A Sicilian fruit.
Oranges, suffused with a modest blush.
Cut them open and they bleed.
But that's our thing.
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