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You can brush your teeth
In the shower
For a good while
It may take an hour
Maybe longer
But by that time
It may not be your teeth
It may be your feet are too big

The shattered ghost-rider
Shadows the clandestine peloton

Nature wins

As ever, the things we do, the things we make, the things we say, will in time be rusted, worn and washed away.

Our dreams and cares will pass, our arms and hands and legs and feet, our brains and hearts, no more or less than trees and leaves and grass, will die and fade, the sun will set at last.

Spending Summer Evenings among Flannel Flowers and Ghosts

Brilliant shafts of sunlight penetrate the canopy of ancient trees and dance across the leaves of fern and flannel flower.
The warm still air is silent but for the sounds of a cool stream tripping and running across its smooth pebbled bed. A dragonfly hovers and skims restlessly above the water’s rippling surface on gossamer wings. Now and then a plaintive bird call rings out and hangs in the air like an arrow turned to mist.
Bare feet glide noiselessly over the moist leaf-strewn path leading to the glade as the daylight fades and encroaching darkness beckons.


Autumn leaves

Autumn Lovers

Streetlight lamplit autumn coloured leaves Rustle and huddle together Scarlet cheeks shying away, from the cool morning breeze's, amorous advances The skyline, streaked with cloud wisps, awaits the hand of the sun, to draw the signature of the day

Such a pretty sight

Still burned around the edges With the final glowing embers Of a love that strayed. And you know before the coffee's poured You've already had much more than you can afford

At the Townie with Whiskey Empire

The Whiskey Empire fills the Townie (Newtown) with sweet rock 'n' soul with a stiff shot of rhythm and blues. I've been trying to make it to one of their gigs for months and was not disappointed - catch them if you can.

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