On the pitch of the roof
a jackdaw holds a twig
longer than its wingspan—
do corvids feel pride?

go back, small cell, atom
slit by light. It takes up 
space, an ocean, a planet, a 

a friend messaged me:

“every time I see sunflowers,
I think of you”

Both cast out to sea, I wonder – 
did your ashes ever meet? 
It was under the same sun setting,
although years and miles apart.

when the people are gone
and the wooden house
has been burned down
to recover its nails

If you don’t believe in God, my friend says, 
why don’t you eat pork?

On my phone a newsreel shows a car boot lifting
just above the flood. Tail lights like eyes 

caught in a comic gasp, while its body, like the carriageway,
lies under sixty million litres of last night’s rain. 

Today I tipped the packet of coffee
into the cafetiere instead of the tin.
Caught myself in time, didn’t pour water in.