Tuesday, 31 January 2012

31 Moments Noted In January


One verse of something notable- my little miracle moments- everyday for a month. This is how January 2012 worked out. These experiments are good for my writing practice and my perception of how lovely life is. 











The grass blades are sharp
Cauterised in ice, where
The earth surface is grazed
Open mud coagulates

Sun disc foams in pink mist
A mere soap-sliver in a cosmic bath
Dog catches frost on her belly fur
Tracking a tennis ball over ice-spiked grass

Enthralled dog chases her ball
I pursue the mysterious object
That slices up light between trees
Slide over mud to discover a plastic bag

Conditions are neither warm nor bitter
Air is cold humid, sky pale in blues and greys
Horizon soft focused, smooth mud underfoot
An echo of sun absorbed in wispy cloud

Hand sized bird with yellow ribs
Lights on a branch for good scavenging
A tin of fat and seed hangs in the holly
Yellow flashes in the dark gloss of leaf

Car lurches up the lane
Riding out the trials
Of potholes and the territorial
Assertions of a pheasant 

Boy must get out of the car
To run at the pheasant, they both
Leg it up the bumpy lane
I am in the car, laughing

One clear kill site in the fields
Splay of female pheasant wing feathers
They would not have been abandoned
Had only foxes worn fantastic hats

Clustered hailstones caught
Spawn-like in grass pockets
Imagine a breed of Ice Frog, imagine
A life cycle that exploits evaporation

Last night I looked up
Through a cloud tunnel
At the moon refracting
Rings of deep hued rainbow

Across at the old bomb crater
A bridge is thought of, a bridge
That leads to a tree house, thoughts
Fabricating fabulous possibilities                                   

We are giggling, smashing the hammer
Into chipboard, making a furniture shape
From the unpacked flat pack, while the
Guffawing baby chews up instructions

A kind of day easy
To describe, clear sky
Warm when sheltered
From the bladed wind

The sun picks me up
Like toast, gold and warm
Dipping in the mid-yolk of day
Glorious unexpected gloop

The vine was a stick in a pot
I was uncertain of its promise
Here two leaves grow, like open
Hands pressed wrist to wrist

The wind is a pair
Of puckish pincers
Holding a magpie, flailing
Fixed in frantic movement

I was tired so all the day merged
And I kind of blundered through
Getting things done. Early afternoon
I danced with the baby till she belly-laughed

Cold rain is balanced
By the steam of hot soup
The uprooted vegetables
Simmered and blipping

The rain travels horizontal
I sideways glance it
From the pages of the book
I am reading in bed

Hospitals weird me out, they smell
Of bad combinations. Amazes me how
Nurses can smile here, bringing calm
In reassuring utility uniforms

Driving through intermittent rain
One of those days where I rarely stop
But in transit briefly catch the sight
There are still apples on that tree

Car rumbles down the lane
Not in gear nor aware of pursuit
Brave-feathered pheasant, relentless
Chases down the red metal intruder

Another driving day, not
Unpleasant, not bored
Ice bursts from the plain sky
Bounces off the windscreen

The weather dial turns down
From rain to sleet to snowflakes
They blow in scatters like a million
Spores or tiny ghosts

Twelve hours of cooking fills
Our warm house with savoury
Aromas, slow cooker, low and
Steady, simmers contentment

Four generations gather in a room
Baby plays down on the floor
The fire is crackling, unheard
Under jabbers of conversation

Three games of dominoes
On the coffee table we carved
Our names on, happy-lethargic
From the wood burner heat

Two bananas are
Split, parcelled in foil
Chocolate stuffed and
Shoved eagerly in the fire

Tangerine moon, slung low
House silhouettes at the valley edge
Sleek silver mist in the dips
Sketches out the marvelling man

Headlamps swoop a curve of hedge
And from the dark lattice of foliage
An abundance of berries bounce back
Circles and circles of cordial light

In the morning it’s my birthday
Boy brings cake, Mr makes espresso
In the pot on the stove, he draws back
The curtains on stripes of sunrise



2 comments:

  1. Beautiful descriptive dialogue, no verse numbers?

    ReplyDelete
  2. I thought the numbers distracted from the flow of the words. And it helps to differentiate this little exercise from the 1,000 MIracles In One Day project. I need numbers for those or I would get lost!

    ReplyDelete

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