Today I purchased a keyring which had a view of the Zion Canyon in Utah The keyring had been constructed in China and the name Michelle was flashing on the reverse It has been repeating this occupation for quite a while as it is solar powered My name is not Michelle I have never been […]

I suppose that birds do not understand or write poetry Which is very sad as they are the most poetical of creatures It does not take much thought to imagine what they see Whilst gliding through the skies or across the wide oceans From Samuel’s Albatross to Gerard’s Windhover they remain obscure Is this God’s final […]

I imagine you in our unmade bed Although you are quite distant from me In time you will return to this bed And lay in repose next to me

Sparrows are not the most colourful of birds Yet I would not call them dour They hide in the low bushes And await my gifts of bread Before retiring unseen Into the neighbouring fields  

It is said that you flew too near the dying Christ And that his pure blood stained your naked breast Whether this is true is not for me to say But I do enjoy your company during the long hours In my small garden of earthly delights

When studied from a distance magpies look just black and white But when they are nearer their fine colours become more evident Their plumage exhibit a purple blue iridescent sheen And their long tails betray a gentle green gloss They are the most arrogant of birds and this wins them few friends But I like […]

During wretched summers such as these I search for swifts and swallows in the trees But sadly my companions are rarely found As they are usually on wing far from the ground

In my most recent dream   Estelle and I were holidaying on a man made island Which was one of six at the foot of the Navas Mountains All six islands were naturiste and guests were isolated from each other by a simple grid I was walking in the sea with Estella in an effort […]

It used to be chic to admire seagulls But tastes have changed and now you are treated as vermin Which is partially of your own making  As you are almost feral in your scavenging I cannot see that that this is going to improve So an impasse will remain in place Which is a little […]

I once knew Jonathan Livingston and his pupil Fletcher Lynd But they are now both long gone and only the brilliant white gulls remember them I often think of this as I watch the summer seagulls chase the autumn storms away