The world has woken
To pleasing blankets of white
Everything seems softer
Gentler, less distinct
It has snowed overnight…

The last flushes of sun
Bleach across the road
And the signposts
Point the ways
Stark white
It is a beautiful sundown
In Devon
Photo: Anita-Clare Field

A river,
Early morning.
Subtle tones
Of pink, white and grey.
The world seems somehow
Muffled by
The first freeze.

The railway
Crosses a bridge ahead
But first it has to
Traverse metres
Of Autumn leaves
That have fallen
And resemble
A beach
Made up of
Carnelian
And other semi-precious stones

Photo may be copyrighted
Anita ta originally shared
Photo: Takahiro Bassho

Why don’t you try this, they said,
And now I’ve a sense of looming dread,
That I am well and truly jammed,
My bridges burned and I’m damned.
Please come quick and rescue me?
I’m running out of energy!

It is raining today,
Cats and dogs*,
And the drops,
Through my window pane,
Look like a careless hand
Is tossing grains of sand
To the wind.
Yet, outside,
The passers-by
Are sheltering under
Their umbrellas.
Red, purple and blue,
Yellow, pink and orange,
Rainbow rain!

* English expression meaning raining hard

Bands of indigo
And apricot,
Earth, bushes, clouds, sky.
A lone tree,
And two geese flying,
Under a silver moon.

It is cold and wet,
And a bit miserable.
I am walking beside
The Griboedov Canal,
Thinking, idly, that
It is somehow
Wetter and colder
To be near or on the water
In the rain.
I huddle deeper
Inside my coat,
And hold my umbrella
A little more firmly.
Yet the lights beside me
In the buildings
That look onto the canal
Twinkle through the dusk,
And, in a way,
Keep me warm.

I’ve always thought Roundheads
Dull, unfunny folk,
But the Cavaliers Clothing
Was a bit of a joke.
Flamboyant feathers
On splendid slouch hats,
Fabulous jackets,
And lacy cravats.
The Roundheads, how boring,
On the other hand,
Shaved all their hair off,
Had clothes that were bland.
Oliver Cromwell,
A miserable soul,
Couldn’t bear the light-hearted,
Or heaven forfend, droll,
So he set about passing
All manner of law,
That would drag us all down
In a miserable maw.
Charles proved quite frivolous,
So he lost his head,
And eventually we got
Charles II instead!
Photos may be subject to copyright

A piece of driftwood
Shaped like an axe-head,
Lies on the shore.
It appears to have been
Dropped there
By the hand that
Excavated the stone
It is lying upon
Photo may be subject to copyright