65

porches, cyclamen -

things english, it occurs, once

I am leaving them

64

like linen stiff still

from the line, kent cabbage furls

and unfurls its stuff

63

branch's curve and leaf 

scatter is sung in our pleats 

and pattern on stone

62

walk after rising

when the sky is lit and sung

by the river's blue

61

 fenced hedges necklace

dry dish of stray sky; landed,
pale blue, down side up

60

animals stray in

ahead of trees, lights and kings

of orientar 

59

we three have travelled 

afar - to ferment, waiting,

sweet juices fizzing

58

yes, you're right, that's snow,

smirched like Christmas when it starts

in late October

57

dropping no needles

they wait while you cogitate

ceiling height matters

56

which way should I go?

through dream gate or round, risking

what kind of forfeit?

55

panicked by marking, 

the park's landmarks reassure

and I count the days

54

through the train window - 

static, solid, see-through, fixed -

panicked land stampedes

53

such slideshows the sun

projects from west, these movies

 much older than Sky

52

biting east wind, sun 

dips at three and snow nearly, 

so nearly over

51

bowling green wins through,

 though the snow tests us still with 

final ink blot games

50

against Hitler, this, 

Kent's bastion - where, thank God

willows flare instead

49

nothing grows, but it 

gives purpose to the lens that

looks or does not look 

48

a hunting snow dog

stalks his prey, waits to pounce - or

is he seeing things?

47

bald dolly cannot

make snow angels in the thaw

but she can see things

46

thaw, and from the earth

spring hopeful heaps, scrabbled by

tiny blind dwarves

45

why the dwarves, why the 

dwarves were painted, why the dwarves

were painted yellow

44

reflected snow light

animates things - frozen still,

but more uncanny

43

Middle Temple; deep,

crisp, even, they bide the call

for sherry at six.

42

christmas comes early

but santa can't cope - it just

snows and snows and snows

41

Boris says there's grit 

enough to last till Doomsday

(or at least Friday)

40

white world, I'm inside

your crystal buildup, cut off

and counting patterns

39

flakes freckle my sky

line, no two the same, and I

spiral curving earth

38

winter's come - snow joke!

and dogs are lotto winners

in rollover week

37

nobody looks good

in salopettes, not even

when it's very cold

36

enough ugly mugs - 

what about these lovely swans

as an antidote?

35

it's his level gaze 

melts me, in spite of squid ink

gums and slapped arse face 

34

heads held high, and with

dogged determination

we sniff better times

33

as Annie puts it,

the sun does indeed come out

eventually

32

scored on a plane tree,

clung to cold willow, love wills,

fanning hope with flames

31

no Observer's 'Trees'

- so can't tell whose bark it is

has been love bitten

30

my mess of flowers -

from garden, husband, summer,

winter - dried and fresh

29

prone on pine floor, they

stretch and I watch, mirror framed,

exercising mind

28

dark spots mark the skin

of the landscape, which must be
why we call them moles

27

still not up to speed

with all new camera's functions,

I muybridge the dog

26

apples like footballs,

scrumped and red as ink used by

Sonia Delaunay

25

useless keeper who

didn't stop penalties now

swims with the fishes

24

between two fields a

rickety rackety bridge -

we falter, then cross

23

oh yes! I'm nippy

man and dog, highway to hell,

blink and you'll miss us

22

who put this there, then?

Kent farmers for their cows? or

space monsters, maybe?

21

exhausted brollies,

we nestle down in leaf mulch,

exotic landfill

20

a snail finds light and

nettles shrink, make way for me,

as the marsh moulders

19

outside my office,

medicinal scent of sage

to make me clever

18

oranges and yellows,

and the curling outer leaves

of an artichoke

17

unpeeled in kitchen:

oh my darling clementine -

all the way from Spain!

16

in nature, windows 

look in. Back in the dark warmth

I hear mice scratching