Last night before sleep The wooden slats of a rickety bridge Plunged me into a wingless flight; My foot slipped on wet rock And my head cracked into a steep gully. What a fright on this soft bed, With death hiking round my head 07/19

Onto glacier scree slopes and boulder bounced moraine, Onto sheep bells echoing round the hot rocks, Onto the smoky blue water of Lac des Huats, Lac Gaudo and the cascades, Onto the étangs full of melt water where my fingers froze, Onto the pines, our sweat and sun-shined skin, Onto the bonjours and saluts and […]

In the land where vultures cry, And mountains thrust jaggy peaks to the sky, And yellow beaked choughs tumble by I could lie down and die in these meadows of bells and butterflies, Here on the steep slopes High on life 2019

2/8/19 We walked for 3 hours in thick mist, Knowing the gist of the land by map, Seeing only birches, bracken, pines, oaks, Wild raspberries, and mountain streams And birds splash the trails with honeyed song Then the sun swallows the last cloud And the mountains speak And even our sweat has a sweeter taste […]

French beans hold heart shaped hands in prayer against the cold, Daisies clench white petals to hide their inner sun, The wind ticks through fairy clocks, spitting seed And 13 dusky slugs bask in moist delight – plump seals on the underside of the compost bin lid 2019

As the sun sinks over city roofs, And the wind stills, And the evening blackens silvered cardoons. As daisies curl petals into tight heads ready for sleep, And Swifts still duck and dive over lilac and laburnum, Gulping flies, Can you hear the earth breathe, Deep, deep? 2019

Instead of your pills prescribe me a day in the hills, a swim in a loch, a dawn with robin or otter, a dance in the spring rain, for how can we truly know rain until it has soaked under the skin and we have let it in. I need a stomp in puddles, a […]

How many grains of sand on Porty beach? How many waves lick the shore? How many crabs walk the floor between the groynes? How many fleas hop in the weed? How many fish take a plastic feed? How many wet wipes float between here and Dalgetty Bay? How many cotton buds buried in the sand? […]

Lie in the soft sway of a meadow, Bathe in the whisperings of Rye grass and clover, Feel the lacey seed heads skim the skin of your face without a flinch, Play ‘Here’s a tree in summer’ and scatter seed to the warm wind, Know that grass is more than green blades cut to within […]

My father’s thick fingers know Hedging, ploughing, reaping, Fencing, birthing, feeding, Stacking, sowing, weeding, And the soft brush Of grass. Cocksfoot, Meadow foxtail, Timothy, All grown for hay. His steady voice shows me Broad leaves, hairy leaves, Flower and seed; Floating sweet grass, Yorkshire Fog grass, Rough Meadow grass, Smooth Meadow grass, Ryegrass, Brome, and […]