Friday 18th January

A word wizard has seized my stones and thrown them, laughing, into the sky.

They fall around him, spinning and spiralling, and when they land they make something new.   I see him, in a long, coloured coat. His smile is wide, and then he has gone.

Thursday 17th January

Joan speaks her mind. In eighty five years, she says, I still haven’t found an answer.  In her huge home, an electric fire pulses suffocating heat.  But her china teacups with the gold green rims are still, and cool, and glitter in the lamplight.

Wednesday 16th January

From the train, all the known views of my suburban childhood.  Tracks, back windows, washing lines and fences.  The station road in its familiar curve, a patch of grass, a tower, and a remembered picnic.  In the cemetery, the dead are as they always were.

Tuesday 15th January

Claire’s dog is barking at bubbles again.  He leaps and snaps and whirls his tail.

Monday 14th January

Sue’s house has grown, and where the garden was, we drink tea.

Sunday 13th January

Snow has grazed the frozen dip where the water gathers.  White snow, black ice, a pelt laid out across the field.

Saturday 12th January

Big snow clouds, yellow underneath and dark on top are cruising like icebergs.  Miraculously, we are in sunshine and our sky is blue.