On the fifth day of Christmas
I upset anonymous
such a shame

Mist wreathed moon dark meadows
fox shadow flees
chasing scent of new mown hay

Recalling the Muddle headed wombat -
I have too few words.
Click. Stop.

Thrice unending farewells
recanted within dark days
perhaps enough

bees fumbling comfrey
foxgloves racing mallow to sun
yet chores hold me

quiet whitby but
beer, bands, good company
and materials science

Long shadows across meadows
frost still in trees shade
then cherry blossom

flight of parakeets
iridescent between
turning leaves and pale skies

across moon lit fields
under whispering trees,
homewards though friendly land

Cats and human moved,
local cat at door looking
for the fluffy pair

Sorting now empty spaces
Facebook invites too have gone