our cupboards are bare

of bread, milk and basic things

a long winding queue

middle of April

my poor car crusted in salt

last week’s icy roads

a garden centre

our visit like a party

amongst the flowers

gallus cockerel

plumage golden brown, strutting

‘midst a flock of geese

a proud cockerel

bemused by the nonchalance

of the large white geese

physicality

the new order of six, but

still we should not sing

waves roar up a beach

a momentary silence

rushing of shingle

an artist, head down

pulling paint across a page

finding first the tone

two clocks are ticking

half of a second apart

in parallel time

a spring-time party

hail, snow and sleet and rain all

dancing in the sun