A Year on the Malverns - Haiku



Childish memories

Bridge the past to family now

Picnic in the rain


Pheasant in the road

Abandoned glove Beech in bud

Between sun and moon


White feather Black Crow

Bare feet beat time on the Earth

Severed trees in bud


Apple blossom breeze

Deviation from the plan

Blowing through the trees


Ribbons in the wind

Out of reach a kestrel hunts

Pages ripped from hand


Two times two times two

Magpies and Easter bonnets



Roses from market

Kate and Matt having a chat

Fallen foxglove found


Three of us eating

Three different cakes at the well

Three rabbits running


Favourite resting spot

Paths affirmed and reassured

A local assumed


Green fullness red road

Slow dog shimmering water

Cornwall beckoning


Take a different path

Savouring every moment

Over hills to home


Two rabbits two birds

Undisturbed by my presence

Glad to be back here


Every sound and sight

Sinks deep into my body

I collect nothing


A heavy stillness

Interspersed with plane sheep train

Skylarks sing through it


Young mother watches

Detached from the world below

Contemplating wings


Walking with a friend

Sometimes poetry Escapes me

Walking with a friend

Can be poetry In itself


Walking an old path

With my family right now

Spring rediscovered


Abundance of shit

Severed limbs of childhood home

Balanced by birdsong


Precarious Edge

Drawn to a different path

A snake follows birth


A death follows snake

Three crows fly by silently

Walking through sorrow


Full Moon stone table

Walking the ditch to clearing

Pen is running out


Placing stone on cairn

Retracing Roman footsteps

Swallows swoop and dive


A Ruby Wedding

Birthday and a Funeral

The wheel keeps turning


Hound-dog and Hay-bales

Harebells and Helicopter

Here again and sane


Breathing space at last

Mother and son walk and talk

Random connections


Two birds sing sweetly

Equinox the midway point

Two strangers no more


Swifts swoop swirl and dive

Sadness for summer’s waning

Tangible sweetness


Orion returns

A ripening and harvest

Collected berries


Bench over childhood home

Two skylarks hang suspended

Distant smoke


Rhythm of feet on earth

Sound of paper

Scratched by pen


Abandoned T-shirt

Ragged in the autumn breeze

Dead rat


Black slug

Creeping darkness

Small fruit


Cold wind biting face

Butter yellow berries

Raven moon


Strong shadows falling

Flies swarm on shit

Dead tree


Turmoil in the trees

Fly is buzzing in my ear

Fox path


Caterpillar in November

Crosses the threshold

Reborn again


Sunlight in the fog

Feet insist on walking through

Poppy paper thin


If I had not looked

Up at that moment I would

Have missed the rainbow


Patterns in the ice

Of sparkling diamonds wedged

Small reality


Coldest walking yet

Forgot the pen to draw

Re-tracing my steps


Bleak February

Sighing back into my self

Wind swept rain stings face


Returning to find

Space where the bench used to be

Path by which we came


The wind agitates

Flagpoles clank like a ship’s mast

Legs protest


Frost dusted stone

And leaf. Cold air on face



Creaking. Yielding.

Bird. Woman.

Rabbit. Dog.


Heart in the hillside

Spiralling back to begin

Letting go again


Winter solstice sun

Slants through stormy skys

trailing Snail on lichen green


Westerly wind

Blows away the old

White fur

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Anna Mitchell Creative Clay