Monday, 22 June 2015

Naiad to Dryad

Water suited her,
cleaved for her,
ran off her as,
barefoot on oakleaves, the
air transmuted her from
Naiad to Dryad.

(Image used by kind permission of to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)

Saturday, 13 June 2015


Lightning lit your mouth
slowly working me, flashes
silhouetting the Mendips, your
lips, tongue, hands, eyes
coaxing my deluge just as the
rain battered Bristol and
all its surroundings.