good morning, spider,
hovering above the world
on your threads of death.

carpeting pavement,
Wolves colours: old gold and black.
shed leaves on tarmac.

six bottles of coke,
from an interflora van.
strange bouquet indeed.

drivers sit in cars,
pigs transported in a truck.
morning traffic queue.

estate agents' sign,
spider web hanging below.
careful. don't get caught.

a varied cloudscape,
scarred by aeroplane con-trails.
geese fly overhead.

fountains of hawthorn
erupting from the hedgerow,
spumes of white flowers.

peering through the mist,
the red and white campion.
summer struggles on.

first mow of the year.
lawn edged with small blue flowers.
now, what are they called?

butterflies dancing
spiralling over the brook,
two, then three, then two.

silver reflections,
water weeds rippling green.
a sudden splash.  duck!

the blue speckled grass,
spread under the naked trees.
dying daffodils.

a last cold breeze blows.
waving good-bye to winter,
the last nude trees sway.

wood pigeons courting:
following from branch to branch,
feigning disinterest.

studiously ignoring,
then casually looking.

on copper green fields,
a pigeon on the dome of
the Methodist church.

a lone crow flaps by,
while bare branches scrape at mist,
searching for the spring.