Old Cow

Old Cow


From town to town the old cow lows,

Foghorns mooing across the miles;

Unseen cattle calling their herd.

Thick fog wreaths shoreline and sea

Turning mundane matters into mystical,

Hiding dull drabness with veils of white

The mist burns off by mid afternoon

And the sun chases clouds away.

Now that the day is come clear,

Where do the fog-cows graze?

A small frenzy of haikus

The other day I had time to kill while waiting for students and having written my very first haiku ever(posted over at cafe crem) I sat on a bench in the town centre and wrote a few more…


Sunshine, no showers

Sandals, trainers, flip-flops

High heels or flat sole?



Sun on chilled skin

Breeze tangles my wild hair

I wait in street



Sore feet, blistered toes

Too tight trainers, my bad!

Putting feet up soon



Present for my mum

New sketchbook for me, yippee!

Shopping now over with


# 5

I sit writing stuff

Killing time, I wait to live

When will life begin?



White clouds, blue sky too

Sheep on azure field grazing

Watch out all below!

Spring is…?

Spring is…?


Spring is a lamb shorn far too soon,

Ready too early for the warmer days.

We wrap our tender plants in fleece,

Encase our bodies in woollen layers

Swathed in scarves, snug in gloves

We stand against the blast of wind.

Spring is a lad blowing hot and then cold,

An immature suitor unsure of his charms:
Today the strong and silent type,

Macho and frosty as a December night.

Tomorrow he’s the Latin lover,

All passion and heat and sunlit smiles.

Spring is a puzzle that challenges each year,

Demanding that we solve it this time.

We dress for the worst, hope for the best,

And just when we think we have it sussed,

It changes the rules and snows in May.