Sunday, 22 November 2015

The whisper

The pale blue
early morning light
almost ( but not quite )
the colour of a Robin's egg
arcs into the attic .

The faded memories of summer
sit naked in the thin
tree branches
wondering where the year has gone.

November scents
like baskets of bright red apples
sitting under
sky of perfect softness.

So many days in a year
they fly by so fast
almost as if
they had angel wings.

Did someone whisper
that Christmas is coming?

Silent night


holy night

Saturday, 7 November 2015

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

On this October Day

The little girl
was walking home

her arms full of brightly
coloured balloons

her sunset hair glinting
in the afternoon sun.

This vision filled my heart with happy
Autumn thoughts


when the streets are frosted
with glistening diamonds

and my breath makes tunnels
of air as I speak.

Dreams will  come easily then
of snowbound farms
blood red holly berries
staining the sky .

The late sun clouds
are leaving now

as a flutter of yellow
and a flash of red falls past
my window

a leaf, falling to the ground

but in my heart




Sunday, 11 October 2015

This deep love



must be praying

it's Sunday

I know people pray everyday
but today
I imagine,

All week
the Autumn sunshine
and scrunching through
the fallen leaves.

Pumpkin spiced lattes
and dreams of new things.

Yesterday was as clear
as a bell
and I loved the day
it was filled with laughter
and good books.

My mind is taking a merry
dance down memory lane
back to the land of
where blackberries grew
like ripe caviar against
the green hedge.

This deep love
of Sundays

it never leaves

Sunday, 20 September 2015

The boy in the red apron

Flying above the rain

where the

sun always seems to shine

then down

to the glorious fields

spread out like green cotton sheets

across the land.

Hay bales rolled ,
and sitting in an orderly line.

How I love this place
where the cry of the gulls
is never ending

the smell of salt in my hair
and sandy toes
are a daily given.

To escape from the harsh realities
of life
away from the worry
is nice.


Yesterday to the place
where the boy in the red apron
smiled at me
his youthful face
full of good manners
and loveliness.

He spoke with ( what I imagined )
to be the accent of a boy
who had gone to Harrow School
his words dripping like honey
onto my plate.

How I loved that moment
the peace

I worry about




Monday, 7 September 2015

This Golden September

The car carried us into town

where the leaves,

like old friends ~

fought for  attention
around our feet.

Not long now
until the adventure begins.

The days grow shorter
light disappears
like sugar in tea.

My imagination is keeping me sane


my mind allows

escape to peaceful places.

Out the door

and down to the beach I go.

I sit on the stones

gazing out at the sea

tasting the salt on my lips and skin.

This golden September

good enough to eat.

Every turn in the road of our lives

brings a new worry, a new concern.

I find comfort

in writing, books;

and endless cups of coffee.

I still breathe.

I am.

Resting in His love,

it is enough.

 : You who sit down in the High God's presence, spend the night in Shaddai's shadow, 
Say this: "God, you're my refuge. I trust in you and I'm safe!" 
That's right - he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards.
 His huge outstretched arms protect you - under them you're perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm. :

Psalm 91, The Message