February Pips - final day

Mists ease away as early spring sun warms the air
Tree trunks drink in hope
Flowers soak up light
and i sigh with relief - farewell Solmonath...

Solmonath is an Old English term for February meaning mud month!

February Pips - Day Twenty-seven

See the ghost-tree
transparent, hollow but standing tall
with a deep heart and angel wings
etched upon its trunk

February Pips - Day Twenty-six

plain stones, red candle
a book of wisdom and some light
there peace resides

February Pips - Day Twenty-five

as usual i ran out of time
but time allowed me some grace -
daffodils and tulips lolling in a vase

February Pips - Day Twenty-four

Nature has a way of reclaiming Her own -
where humans blunder in and hack off limbs
She tenderly covers the stumps and sends new shoots

February Pips - Day Twenty-three

I don't know what you're eating
but can I have some?
A piece of cheese, a grape, some bread
- can't you see how hungry I am?

February Pips - Day Twenty-two

Lying crushed, folded and lonely
a snowdrift breathes its last
sheep-like in its whiteness
against the brown-almost-green earth.

February Pips - Day Twenty-one

The land appears to be slipping
and the tree leans into the hill
neither is true, nor does the camera lie

February Pips - Day Twenty

Through a child's eyes
i see the wonder in every pebble
with a child's imagination
i know the stories told in sand

February Pips - Day Nineteen

You make me soup for lunch and carry it down to class
I receive soup for my soul and break bread with gratitude
- such a precious gift, your love for me

Thank you Tim for feeding me, 
for nourishing my soul 
and filling my heart to overflowing

February Pips - Day Eighteen

see the details of the land across which you stride
each speck is microscopic life-at-large
the walls and floors of the fields shelter miracles

February Pips - Day Seventeen

green burst of life
in the stillness of a graveyard
a robin plays a tune
and the snowdrops nod their heads

February Pips - Day Sixteen

(written on 17th due to late night meltdown last night)

A redundant shutter hook
on a 1700s house
becomes a ladies' shadow pistol
in the morning light

February Pips - Day Fifteen

Few words and no picture
makes this entry brief
life cannot always be put in print...

February Pips - Day Fourteen

He traces a heart
and I drink in his love
my thirst will ne'er be slaked.

February Pips - Day Thirteen

I don't sleep just anywhere
Not on any old table or any soft chair
I just sleep on my bed

With a blanket
to warm
my ancient bones
and two humans
to wait upon me

For I am old, so very old
and tired...

February Pips - Day Twelve

cold that pierces the marrow
chills the blood
and renders the brain almost useless

not the best day
to consider spring-cleaning
so i don't.

February Pips - Day Eleven

snorting and pushing
two big beasts
are let loose from their stall

to roll and play
to leap and buck,
our horses - friends not food.

February Pips - Day Ten

camouflaged between blades of grass
a feather rests on the breath of God
and I am drawn down to pray
- for just one quiet moment alone

February Pips - Day Nine

Even in a foreign language
unknown to me,
a bookcase is my sweetie shop -
I stroke their well-worn spines

Bookcase filled with Polish books passed down to a friend's sister-in-law with whom i stayed last night in London (thanks Barbara!)

February Pips - Day Eight

sugar-snow icing on mole-hills
dusted down through a cloud-sieve,
Do moles celebrate with cake?

February Pips - Day Seven

birdfoot arrows
shape my path
i marvel at their sharpness
and delight in the pattern
- until large-pawed dogs come thundering through.

February Pips - Day Six

wind pierces walls,
reduces birds to walking
sends doors flying

February Pips - Day Five

the sky is on fire
- burning with a flame
so strong
it turns the air to gold
yet leaves the trees as dark,
stark silhouettes
- charred remains
of a day.

February Pips - Day Four

She stands with feet planted firmly
backside leaning against the gate,
tangled locks tussled by the breeze
yet sturdy and unfazed.

And i can forget the money worries
and the admin still not done
as i stand with this old tree goddess
and see the world she sees.

February Pips - Day Three

caught up in the moment
with its busy chaotic mood
i might miss those quiet details
growing on the wall,
the veins of the fallen leaf
pulsing in the sun,
and the lingering that waits for me
at that kissing, creaking gate.

February Pips - Day Two

wormy holes

and chewed bark

only serve to make you

more beautiful

in the softening, warming sun

February Pips - Day One

I will endeavour to maintain the discipline of daily writing through February and i would love your company along the way.  Some of Hawthorn's pips might get eaten by birds, others will start to grow into hawthorn bushes for the next generation, and others might get left on the branch, becoming prune-like and wizened...

Boughs bend, shadows lengthen

sun penetrates our coats,

bare branches promise green

and birds announce their season.