undergrowth

this weariness  
moss  
on the fallen logs  

wild geometry

branching branches  
there’ll soon be frost  
on the leafless tree

inching

three more weeks of term  
blossom  
on the winter cherry

around the block

exploring  
the neighbourhood  
these well-worn paths

blowing

I sneeze
leaves
on the breeze

close

autumn mist 
here 
we are

bonfire night

fireworks 
beneath 
the stars

rounded

beach pebbles 
turning over the poems 
of Sylvia Plath

periphery

ebb tide  
drawn to the edge  
of the world