The empty stems of the fennel

Under umbrella heads of raindrops

Are perches for the waiting birds

The grey green sage leaves

Glow crystal white in the frost

Moss grows where the branch

Leaves the trunk of the bonsai

Its ruddy leaves falling

Amongst the yellowing leaves

A single crimson rose bud perishes

Yellow leaves have fallen from the dogwood

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And then, suddenly, it was calm - the morning wind which threw

rain hard against the window panes and sent beech leaves rushing

across the grass to pile gold-brown against all that the borders grew,

all slowly dulling their greens to wet, muted browns, brushing

the soil as their leaves curl and droop - vibrant Spring-strength gone,

fading sadly.

                         The wind ...

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I breathe in, filling up my lungs with the cold, cold winter air. Hair the colour of ruby floating in the wind, the tears dripping down my face until they too float away. A piece of concrete crumbles away and falls, until I can no longer see it, swallowed up by the shadows, which  have come a bit too close for comfort now. Threatening to swallow me too.

Instead I angle my face to the sun. So un...

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