TUESDAY 5
My veins are lanes, roads
motorways. Dye stains them, a
map for the scanner.
WEDNESDAY 6
Seeking leopards and
a juniper tree, all I
find is ashy sky.
THURSDAY 7
Camellia, bluebells
even, daffodils, all bowed
down by today’s rain.
FRIDAY 8
The island’s new kerb
is full of gravel but I’m
hoping for flowers.
SATURDAY 9
A metallic, heart-shaped,
pink balloon, half deflated
in the high branches.
SUNDAY 10
Wind, sun, rain, hail, sleet.
All weathers in five minutes
of the afternoon.
MONDAY 11
Bay branches to take.
Free. So I do, and wave one
at a bumblebee.
Seventeen 