The oak tree
A misshapen old man
that barred our way to school.
We would sidle past, caps over our eyes,
the aged oak in Greenfield Avenue,
so wide the path went round it;
startling, lurid growths
broke away from its crevices,
crumbling at a touch.
Aware of beauty, we gathered
cobwebs, glistening with dew
and sunlight, netting them as gleaming fish
in rock pools, with bent...
Sunday 31st December 2017 11:53 am
The donkeys of Mijas
bear children and overweight parents
around the streets on New Year's Eve.
At work they see nothing
but the cart in front, face their fate
in blinkered silence. Tethered
in stalls, their braying
roars through the town.
Pale-haired twins twirl
each other with ghostly smiles;
Marbella square awash with people,
music as midnight nears.
Our daughter doles out the ...
Tuesday 3rd January 2017 11:27 am
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