Charcoal darkness shades late afternoon,
at the narrow edges of a chalk white snowfall. 
Beams slide from our single lamp through the pane
onto soft-heaped mounds and frozen branches,

I Have Memorised a Series of Statistics About Drowning
after Benjamin Gucciardi

When the bus hits the tunnel and the sun disappears
I remember how the greatest risk-factor for drowning
is being near water; then being near it drunk;

I don’t really care about butterflies, especially when they land in poems
except when a Red Admiral gets lost in the great grey fields
of the curtains and, because you really don’t see them so much

The ash tree A superb winter sunrise backlights edges of cloud tinting sky above and bay below the palest blue, hints of gold glistening on the water. Beneath a faint sliver of rainbow a young ash, bold denier of dieback pushing through a broken wall wears a light...

How To Remain Human This Year

We give a throwaway kiss
to strangers, to see New Year in.
We plant the seed with hope
it will grow, form fruit, to feed us.