Dream of Me

Familiar words drifted towards him as he felt the gate yield to the key.¬†Stars fading, but I linger on dear; still craving your kiss. The torrid heat of the day had given way to a clear and cloudless night, the surface of the lido lay flat and shimmering in the moonlight. Full, the moon cast…

Dream a little.

  Most members preferred the heated indoor pool, with its regimented lanes and floodlights. He’d always found it stifling in there. The water felt greasy and clotted somehow, with the swimmers who treated the water like an obstacle to slap and push out of the way as they thumped to the end of the pool….

Night Sea

Porthgwidden, that most welcoming of sands. Blue in the sapphire moonlight. At moonrise, the waves are amplified. Becoming the soft breathing of sleeping giants. Gulls glide ghostly above the midnight black waters as the surf draws contoured hills on the sloping tideline.   Busy ships twinkle: stars in a velvet sky, with no horizon. All…

Harvest Moon

  I searched frantically for you. Carving around bends and cutting across hills Suffused with evening shadow. Eyes peeled and neck staining; All for a glimpse. My night vision blurred by headlights I all but gave up: Then there you were. Just a glimmer, me playing peekaboo peering through thorny hedgerows to crest a hill…

Sails of Silver

It is a very valuable experience to watch a person engaging with their passions. It is a privilege to observe, and one that I always value greatly. A person may embrace their chosen field with grace and serenity, or hurl themselves at it with full force. ¬†However it manifests itself, it is always mesmerising. What…

Something out of nothing

There is such joy in skimming stones. Even in the searching and gathering; seeking rounded narrow discs. You need a calm moon, with the tide as peaceful as a millpond. Water as calm and misty as the eyes of a sated lover. Thigh-deep, launching stones as fisherfolk cast their nets. Each stone, caressed between fingers…

Moon Rock

I found you rolling in the surf. You look more akin to the moon. A set piece from Thunderbirds. I hope that dainty shell chose to wedge itself. God only knows what you’ve been through. You were heavy and waterlogged at first. Now dried out, you rattle. Hiss, when submerged. How old are you? Your…

Fine form

We lie low in the sun, flush with the furrows. Day dreaming. We all love stretching out in our forms, belly dry with whiskers fanned out. Ah, but running is when we really stretch. Throw our legs forward and around, striving to take off. Why do you think we love the Moon? Our dreams are…

Two eyes are better than none.

The December of 1915 marked two returns for me. Freezing temperatures which I recognised, and my father, who I didn’t. I was five when he enlisted, but nearly 7 when he appeared in our kitchen with coathanger shoulders and his face turned away. I knew it was him instantly, from the way he rested his…

The Mourning moon

The moon signifies renewal for me, and always will. I am grateful for the sun and love it dearly, but the moon is my first love. In its ever-changing, wax-waning, crescent-swelling phases it reflects all the beauty and unpredictability of life and love. No wonder then that this November moon is known as the Mourning…