April/May

TUESDAY 30

Inside the barbers,
a man points a hairdryer
towards his t-shirt.

WEDNESDAY 1

I wish I still knew
the names of trees. These might just be
sycamores, or not.

THURSDAY 2

Bluebells spill from the
garden to the verge, are crushed
there by wheelie bins.

FRIDAY 3

Town is like a ghost
town. Is it lunchtime yet? the
rag market man asks.

SATURDAY 4

As soon as I go
out to the Arboretum
to write, rain begins.

SUNDAY 5

Scone, and chocolate iced
sponge, with tea, on a pew, watched
over by stained glass.

MONDAY 6

Fork-tailed silhouette
of a red kite drops, brushes
our bonnet, flies up.