Untitled|one eighteen – The road is wider than long


MTB race partner Cat Lamont and I at work for COG Velo during the Strathpuffer 24 (20-21 January, 2018. photo credit: Gary Williamson Photography.)

Black Shetland ponies.
Fire — most especially, fire butane gas portable cabinet heaters.
James Merrill| A Vision Of A Garden, in ‘Water Street’ (Atheneum, 1962)
Marie Howe| The Snow Storm, in ‘The Kingdom of Ordinary Time’ (W.W.Norton, 2008)
Rebecca Watts| The Cult of the Noble Amateur (PN Review 239, Volume 44 Number 3, January – February 2018.)
Sheila Legge| I Have Done My Best for You, in ‘Contemporary Poetry and Prose #8’ (Roughton, 1936)


‘I was a child, I did not know / That what I longed for would resist / Neither what cold lines should my finger trace / On colder grounds before I found anew / In yours the features of that face / Whose words whose looks alone undo / Such frosts I lay me down in love in fear.’ (Merrill)

Tinsel – like a rag of plastic caught in the branch of a tree – but purple, and green.
Trail running.
Vasily Grossman| Everything Flows (Vintage, 2011)
Water — from mountain streams running snow melt.


‘This quote was in the article from the Adventure Syndicate about their Puffer with the 4 school girls, loved it and thought it applied to us too at a certain time in the morning … ‘But keep inching forward and nothing stays the same. The sun always comes up in the end, casting aside the fears and doubts felt in the darkness.’

Dreaming of Hedgehog

My dream is I am standing in a dusting of snow on the farm road which passes the garden gate. The gate is open, held open by an old brick as usual (the route that Hedgehog favours on her afternoon walk in the neighbourhood) and as there is no wind, the wild rose bushes and trees are motionless. It’s quiet. It’s cold, but I’m kept warm by a heavy greatcoat. The ground is luminous. The sky a very dark grey. The snow comes on again, big heavy flakes now, as an Angel, looking across the fields towards the river, appears near the steadings at the end of the road, followed soon after by the tinkling sound of little bells. Hedgehog approaches me, and goes past, leaving little grey daubs behind on the ground, and I see that she has hung around her neck a pale blue ribbon with tiny pink bells. She looks and sounds very pretty (and she knows that I think this as well) as she goes on her way towards the serene Angel who has turned to face her.