Look through any window. I live in a new house. two-up, two-down, on the periphery of a market town. The door knocker is made of brass and all the casements have mullioned glass. From the upper window I can see distant hills and a verdant meadow full of daffodils. I wonder if those jonquils could be
» Read moreWritten years ago on my relocation to the city from the sanctuary of my country retreat in Aberdeenshire and missing my crows. Hear my voice in your cold dark dawn frosty branches and purple streaked sky. Awake! rouse yourselves! heads removed from covering wing. Come now, to this small city dwelling. Fly above the cliffs and the barren cornfields, majestic
» Read moreThe painter’s brush drops yellow pillows on a coverlet of green, draws Spring’s song from Winter boughs and pastel shaded buds. Tips the trees with songs of love, and rings them round with snowy bloom.
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