On my way to buy a morning paper
Sandra Davies

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4 / 7

Iridescent rainbow in the gutter
red orange yellow holographic shine
closer, blue green indigo bedazzles
courtesy of Benson Hedges

*

6 / 7

A rough, tobacco-damaged, dirty chuckle,
conjured up a much-loved and delinquent aunt
who took me apple-scrumping when I was eight

*

26 / 7

Large, empty plastic bottles
spill out of recycling bag.
Don't they know how therapeutic
it is to stamp them flat?

*

11 / 8

Pink neon reflected on the fish and chip shop tiles,
and again across the puddled tarmac of the car park,
a fractured, trailing Isadora Duncan chiffon scarf.

*

26 / 8

Ahead of me a young man, good looking, emerges
slipping silently from behind a tall back gate.
Crosses the road and just as silently disappears behind another
... ah, but if he had, he surely would have been more dishevelled?

*

27 / 9

Splendid pile of fungus:
griddle scones awaiting maple syrup

*

7 / 10

So contrast-cold this morning
that I check the condensation on the car
to make sure it's not frost.

*

12 / 10

Paper shop shuttered
paper not bought
shape of the day
dislocated

*

13 / 10

Half-light
half-dressed woman
high heels and a towelling dressing gown
searches the boot of her car
for clothes

*

18 / 10

Two overhead geese,
ten degrees apart,
noisy enough for a 'V' of a couple of dozen

*

19 / 10

Semi-circle moon above my head
bleeding brightness
onto a blue-grey blanket.

*

25 / 10

Spat of rain and rustling raincoat,
squelch and slick of squeaking boots,
detract from silent dark and thoughtful contemplation.

*

27 / 10

Absence of blanketing wind
enables tiny, coloured stitches of sound
to be heard, as background pattern.

*

7 / 11

Mediterranean colours:
the bonnet of a turquoise car,
scattered golden leaves
rime-edged and frost-adhered.

*

14 / 11

A slew of eggshells
pale and slimy-stuck to tarmac,
adherence for a cast-off car key

*

15 / 11

and the sky this morning
wet on creamy-papered wet
Paynes Grey and a touch of Burnt Sienna

*

16 / 11

Crow, raucous at the top of a silver birch,
and I hear the central locking of the car parked underneath click open
'Clever crow' I think.
But no.

*

26 / 11

Stepping stones of yellow sycamore
stuck to the rain-damp road

*

1 / 12

Fifty minutes late
and no-one says 'good morning'
- we have not the two years plus
of graduated nodding
in acknowledgement

*

2 / 12

For ten days now,
a mattress and a divan
brand new, polythene-wrapped
left uncollected
at the side of the house next but one.

*

5 / 12

Frowning to stay upright
I dissuade all morning greetings
and omit to post the letters
I diverted for

*

6 / 12

Turned a dark corner to be met with disaster
myriad blue flashing lights
a moment to realise it's not an emergency
but somebody's tree-full for christmas

*

7 / 12

Difficult to tell in the dark
whether blackness of sky
is due to lack of the sun
or imminent pouring down rain

*

13 / 12

Heading east
puddles pale oases,
turned north
they blacken,
orange-rimed.

*

4 / 1 (late)

Clouds both pink and blue,
hedging bets:
sex not yet determined.

*

6 / 1

Lilac clouds this morning
and I ponder on the possibility
of purple rain.

*

9 / 1

Mis-matched same-age schoolboys
uniform failing to disguise
the randomness of puberty

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more morning paper notes can be found in Sandra's blog:
stones of communication / small stones

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words: Sandra Davies, UK (lines of communication)
image: 'Pictures in the pavement' - Jean Morris, UK (tasting rhubarb )

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