‘first thing / in the morning …’

 

 

 

        first thing
        in the morning
        with the breeze
        the coach and
        the line of traffic
        is held half-way
        uphill at the
        lights

        the bright sky
        in the tinted
        windscreen

        amber

 

 

 

breeze wormhole: ‘the breezy …’

 

Charlotte

 

 

 

                                   Charlotte

                     a helium-
                     expelled

          just six-year-old

                                   grunt

                     half-way up the
                     stairs with her

          best twang, “I’m – ungh –

                     just trying to bring Jonny
                     upstairs
                     he’s broken his mouth.”

 

 

 

Charlotte & Jon wormhole: dream

 

cloudy

 

 

 

                                cloudy

                down

                the steps
                to the pebble beach

                a woman
                sunbathing

                tucked up under
                the seawall

                and the old smell
                of a raspberry

                ice lolly – a solid
                pink bar with

                ribs

 

 

 

beach wormhole: bbbrsshhh … sss …

 

‘the breezy …’

 

 

 

                      the breezy
          juxtaposition

                      of the “airgh”
                      of the seagull

                      flying before
                      a low moon

                      in the early evening
                      on the caravan site

 

 

 

breeze wormhole: ‘peoples’ heads …’
evening wormhole: just

 

stormy sky

 

 

 

                                              stormy sky

                     through
                     the window
                     the top of the copper beech
                     before the red tiled roofs
                     blowing one half
                     then the other half
                     in the wind

 

 

 

on the hill

 

 

 

                      in the park
                      on the hill

                      the
                      bright
                      red
                      football
                      shirt

                      on the horizon
                      before the
                      distant misty hills
                      and the buttercups
                      scattered about
                      the grass
                      like Saturday

 

 

 

horizon wormhole: ‘light blue …’
mist wormhole: ‘the mist high in the sky …’

 

tired

 

 

 

                                tired

                the wind blowing
                the front windows
                but whistling
                at the bedroom door

 

 

 

‘through the open window …’

 

 

 

                      through the open window

                      the bird sings two notes
                      again and again

                      while

                      the lorry drives
                      slowly

                      uphill

 

 

 

bird wormhole: comicbook morning
passing wormhole: ‘the mist high in the sky …’

 

‘white blossom …’

 

 

 

                           white blossom
                           on a bush an empty
                           but white criss-cross trellis
                           by the wall the net curtain flaps
                           slightly out the window
                           and the telephone line
                           thrums

 

 

 

blossom wormhole: ‘peoples’ heads …’

 

‘the mist high in the sky …’

 

 

 

                the mist high in the sky

                                yellow among the
                                brown branches

                grey Escort, dark grey Clio, red Escort

 

 

 

mist wormhole: ‘mint toothpaste …’
passing wormhole: ‘a most intense blue …’