daydream

lost in thought
milk bubbles over
burnt oats smelling of scorched paper

window view

plastic snowflake dances
on invisible thread
against tree-shadowed red tile

family movie night

breakfast for dinner
chocolate pie for dessert
and cuddling under fleece

leek broth

she ladles comfort from the old days
of farm kitchens among lakes and fells
it tastes better in a basin

through the window

the wind whips fierce
frozen tree limbs shudder stiffly
the snow blows like sand

induction

striped tail tip twitches
sleepy-eyed, purring softly
as i slip the needle into his vein

time warp

tangled forelock in my gloved fingers
i watch her dreamily brushing the shaggy coat
and  remember when it was me

clarity

in the soft shuffle of cards
and murmuring of prayer
butterflies and birds ride the storm

prayer meeting

before laundry, before dishes
before anyone is awake
i paint

wild hunt

with airs above the ground
he plucks snowflakes from the sky
and invisible mice from the drifts

exuberance

a last-minute flip of the wrist
sends her virtual ball
into the gutter

self-care

scent of oats and bubbling milk.
in between the swirling,
i spill crazy on the pages

disconnect

amidst the chatter
it's hard to focus,
my mind wanders to the Other-where

stormageddon...part 2

the wind is a million razors
slicing through my jeans and making my eyes ache
i hurry us home before the snow comes

rite of passage

blue gems twinkle in her ears
as Ty the Piercing Guy
compliments her bravery

infinitely curious

smiling to myself
i watch and i listen
then i pick up my pencil and give it a try

check-out conveyor belt

her gape-mouthed  fish
lands with a frozen thud
behind my organic eggs and the boy-child's favourite pretzels

egg and chips

it was more than lunch.
it was an affirmation of her health
and a chance to laugh at the things that had scared us

accumulation

flakes of white fluff
land in my eyelashes
as i scrape off the car after work

new toy

the satisfying beep-beep
of a happily
anaesthetized cat

journal

in the storm of the day,
i find my center in its pages,
crinkled with ink and emotions

birthday girl

in the morning i spin her 'round,
kiss her hair and tell her
she'll be born in half an hour

ritual

pen scratches page
green tea in a striped cup
clinking as it settles on the saucer

cleanse

waking to rain
it washes away the old year
while birdsong welcomes the new