July 2015

Last day of July and Summer still not what it might be…

Blotting-paper sky;
ragged ink splashes of crow.
A page, blown away.



Nothing quite so scarifying as the scolding of an angry wren…

Chocolate fluttering,
quick wren scoots out of my way;
complains bitterly.



The wild and unpolluted meadows are magnificent now…

Orchids. meadowsweet
dance in flowerful meadows
To grasshopper song.



That darn cat…

The silence erupts:
a wren’s loud, angry scolding.
And the cat’s AWOL.



No good weather to speak of this year, mist and moisture, islands and sea and sky blurred together…

Headlands melt to mist.
The sea and sky become one.
Islands rise from cloud.