Petals – Micropoetry

When you wake with petals strewn at your inner imaginings, you try to live up to the sweet start,

Micropoetry: Language

It's a mystery, how the mind leaps from primitive sound to intricate, webbed sentence,

Micropoetry: This Moss is her Island

This moss is her island, its dewy green . . .

A Poem for Poetry Day Ireland

When the bough breaks and my oak tree heart is joined by an echo,

Micropoetry – Piebald Rug & Flood

Burgundy-earth patches on cream, soft as calla lily.
A bright maple leaf makes a startling autumn sight.

Flash Fiction: Maple Leaf

The maple leaf stops them. Its veiny palm invites examination, as peach and pale green cross shades. Autumn does this to maple leaves; scorns their attempts to cling onto their tree of birth, strikes them down, flattens their flame. And then, somebody finds the leaf, finds charm in its crown-like edges, its slight resemblance to thorns.
Heron.

Poetry – Heron

A solitary heron, silver-grey, his stature great, resides within the river village, old man hunched and scouring.
Pebbles.

Poetry – Pebbles

Tricoloured pebbles, the sand stepping-stones of a shuffling huddle, or shifting land - a clinking crowd at ground.
Mermaid

Flash Fiction: Soap-White

She assumes her position at the sink, everything greasy from the day's befores. She scrubs at silver insides; the eternal circle from clean to unclean. The water pounds in and she thinks of the river; a rat's tail - just the tail, moving through rushes.