All posts tagged: moseley

honeysuckle, smoke

the city in june smells of honeysuckle and smoke. i wander along bloomfield road, huddled under an umbrella, and sidestep the first of two shattered mirrors. i hop over a series of (increasing in size) muddy, murky puddles. there are blue stars, and spiral buds, petals in patterns, and i’m almost certain now that flowers have learnt a language larger than any of ours. rows of cars are stuck in traffic, and their passengers are losing patience, you can see it written on some of their faces. there are clouds of rising vapour, poppy petals tearing like tissue paper, and a blackbird sits atop a pile of red bricks. it watches everything, for a little time, all of us together, quickly tilts its head, as if sharply considering something, and then sets off, in quivering flight. a rare light, this afternoon, and it’s ever so beautiful.

lemon drop daffodils

enchanted, frightened, in equal measure. eloi, eloi. edges of the wild, evergreens, powerlines. a little too old-fashioned, english girl impractically nostalgic. abalone shells as altar of eros, ink stained fingers planting tomatoes and irises. foxgloves, forget-me-nots, pressed into the pages of heavy books and forgotten forever. feed the hummingbirds before breakfast, they’ll hover about the kitchen window, sing the songs that appear as they wish. mint tea in a mason jar, mountain on my chest. eloi, eloi. march 2019: saturday evening. lemon drop daffodils, saint julian’s day, heavenly protector of wanderers far from home and looking to find safe lodging. old man’s beard, traveller’s joy. english pear scented candles crackle. shadow and glow. earlier this afternoon*, probably the last of this winter’s snow, although it was eleven degrees and i don’t entirely understand how. tonight, though, now, raindrops race one another from the top to the bottom of my apartment windows. lavender’s burning, lilac perfume. a spoonful of elderberry syrup, a two cup teapot, i fall asleep under stars on the ceiling. the next morning, and …