in this morning sky

there are black clouds and white clouds

which one will win out

the quick link to the

poetry of the people 

opens a paywall

 the light is still there

in the eyes is the faces 

now lined with age

 stirring my coffee

the cat calls for her cream

it’s a ritual 

 wren in the corkscrew 

bouncing like a bingo ball

top of the shop

 high summer 

moored on the chimney pots

a yacht 

 hollow cuckoo

that island in the marsh

i don’t believe you 

 behind the fig tree

the fence has turned white

i will paint it 

 ten thousand prayers

and not one has been answered

except by pain

 hotel room

ten thousand souls

have left nothing

 cherry blossoms 

red hat

 the nursing home

the upholstery cleaner arrives 

memories erased