diving

hands in gloves 
the cormorant slips 
into the river

warmer

spring morning 
I step out 
of the cold shower

take a breather

I stop running 
the wind 
rushing past me

cycling uphill

cycling the long road 
up Mt Teide – counting the spokes 
of mountain daisies

Canary Islands

black sand beach 
the soft crash and pull 
of her breath

spying

peck, pick, peck 
watching the girl watching 
the pigeons

Slab Square*

slap of the skateboards 
I slip my phone 
into my pocket

* colloquial name for the open space in the middle of Nottingham