March/April

TUESDAY 26

The room reflected
recreates itself outside,
lights as a ceiling.

WEDNESDAY 27

Two bees intersect,
hovering over the banked
bed of primroses.

THURSDAY 28

More than four miles, the
longest I’ve managed since Black
Friday, months ago.

FRIDAY 29

A crow struts on the
lawn, its beak forced wide apart
by pulverised twigs.

SATURDAY 30

The last of the short
days, light tomorrow as far
as half-past seven.

SUNDAY 31

On the flagstones of
the patio, a pied wagtail
hops round the dog bowl.

MONDAY 1

Ichthyophobic,
I wouldn’t want a poisson
d’avril suck on my back.