Projects: 2017 / 2016 / 2014 / 2013 / 2012

VRL Thonger

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I'll write a poem every day, might be tiny but it'll be complete.


Slow growling thunder brings down

a few heavy warm drops

the soft thick lawns soak up

most of the moisture

while a tumble of flowerheads

in a range of hues from

pink through salmon to purple

 – fuschias, dahlias, petunias, hydrangeas –

rustle and nod in the rain

flanked by pea-gravel paths.

Over there a wooden bench

floating on a sea of lawn

with no one on it

a flagpole with no flag

a single branch of the majestic

copper beech moving in the first hint of a

breeze, scents of lily and the second

wisteria flush drifting into conservatory

windows. Over the other side of

the estuary – reflecting the clouds'

heavy greys and silts – hedged wheatfields

glow ripe yellow on bulging hillsides

skirted by dark oak and

hawthorn coppices. Pigeons doo-doo

nearby in two  spreading cedars

and a squirrel shoots up the gingko

four herring gulls circle the flagpole

yelping hysterically enough

to keep jetlag at bay, and a bumble

bee battles the fat raindrops for

its place in the striped heart of

a flower, a few cars swish by

and we hold our breath

anticipating the next flash and

thunderclap to shake up this placid

corner of bucolic old Teignmouth.

Day 58 Green

That particular Devon green.