The wind turns the birch leaves over showing their slate-green backs. The tree's white bark is spotted with black, like a snow leopard hiding in the foliage. 

Sunday afternoon

the sun-dried grass, in our short cut lawn, feels like the scratchy hair on the pig I stroked this afternoon.

I breath in...

I breath in - bowls of pink champagne on the rosebush. 

PC repairs

My hands shaking, I try not to touch the sensitive copper parts of the DIMM. The copper flashes like gold in the sunlight.

the thumb print of God

 on the weathered bird feeder

 a spot of lichen

 bird shit

 the thumb print of God

she opens her arms to the sky
"so this is outside?"
this beautiful evening light, these beautiful slate grey clouds
edged with gold
this is outside

The rain beats...

The rain beats, tattoos, on the conservatory roof. It explodes into a mist on my nieghbour's slate roofed porch, and obscures the sky.

In the Cambrian mountains

In the Cambrian mountains, a keeled over apostrophe of mist floats in front of dark, pine covered, slopes.

a hole in the clouds

a hole in the clouds - suddenly the sea-front houses glow

The Eucalyptus tree leans as if swept by gale

The Eucalyptus tree leans as if swept by gales. A blackbird stands, and sings, in one of its bright, ivory-white branches.