Static Years

New vistas call to me

I feel drawn beyond the horizon

Tired of all the same places my eyes come to rest

Summer creeps, slips by without notice

Autumn always falling next


Wears me thin like my old jacket

Soon the cold

Winter rears its’ ugly head

Back to waiting

Same old dance

Spring rains will come again

Quick Cycle

Somewhere beyond barren trees and brown spans of grass

Colour comes again

Never meant to last

Passing days of Spring

Leading into Summer

Fall waiting in the wings

Then back to Winter slumber

Season blanketed by snow

Stealing all the covers

Half a year in the cold

Between the Seasons

Last breaths of winter

Bitter cold across my neck

Leaving six months behind me

Grey skies and sunless depths

Grey skies that fade to black

And rise again in muted shades

Spring’s edge

Let the light find this place

Night ramble.

Though I’m always tired, I often find it difficult to sleep. Decided to pass the time with some photography. I’d normally edit the results, but I think a few of the photos stand up on their own. I hope everyone is well, and enjoying their day/night.

Middle Weather

The cold rain falls

Wind whips it helter skelter

Change of seasons upon us

Still caught in the grips of winter

March comes hither

In like a lion

Roaring, clawing at windows

Best take shelter

Then, out like a lamb

Strange days on a northern strand

Eyes Ahead

Hollow words to fill the gaps

Passing time on dreary days

The wind howls

Soon comes the rain

Wash away the signs of winter

Look ahead to spring

Birds, bugs, flower buds, all the greener things

Numbing Days

Odyssey of ice

The northern trails I follow

Call out through the forest, bare branches ring hollow

Timbers littered with standing dead

In the mute season, we all look the same

Dread grey, sleet white, frostbite black

The long path

Some don’t come back



The season takes hold

Puts me in my place

February comes, blizzards in its’ wake

Winds shaking this old house

Temperatures plummet

I’ll try to wait it out

Doubt creeping like the cold

Cutting to the bone

The season takes hold