Tales from the edge of the morning sky

Send us Fan Mail The First Woodpeckers,  and silence,  above woodlands along the beach  of memories,  the new year  opens  in dawn, time, and light, the wind  and seas still,  at rest, and so to walk upon the shoreline  empty  as yet of footsteps  under  the bluest  of skies and tides, for there are wings  of days  many,  to come to lift  and hope for a blossoming  south from an awakening  west. F...

Send us Fan Mail There’s a wind There’s a wind outside,  brewing darkness,  bringing shadows  and thunder, behind the early morning rain,  in sheets  of slate  and angry grey,  the sky is split  in misshapen fragments  of silver,  shattered in splinters  of lightening,  trees, burgeoning  building lines  and edges. And still,  the day, does open. In splints  of light,  pillars  of mists  and falli...

Send us Fan Mail Immediately she saw him. Their eyes met like fire across the middle distance between them. She didn’t notice anything else about him being except what he held in his hand. He’d parked the car, two car spaces from the glass recycling containers. His old vehicle too valuable for his memories to be ruined by an accidentally dropped glass, or container. He was a little early for his t...

Send us Fan Mail The Flood The flood, an early  dawn  of darkness,  steel, grey  and morning  light,  slips between  the clouds  and sky,  so begins  another day,  in sight, for the fields  are full  and plenty,  the streams  and rivulets  silver quick  beneath  the tumble and fall  of sky only shadows,  as memories  are lost  in entanglement,  the passing of death in this  last expiring  fall  of...

Send us Fan Mail Last Lea Last hours  before midnight,  outside  it’s pouring  with evening rain,  the city streets  swept empty  with silence  and reflections,  everything drawn within shadows,  puddles  of life, through  this window pane And so  to look further  through my own, my  reflection,  across rooftops  and trees,  up high, to what is hidden  behind clouds  of a falling  windswept  Decem...

Send us Fan Mail Sun’s Up Sun’s up,  seagulls surfing  upon winds  of light  and morning, across the early  dawning,  and wisps  of an empty sky,  and below, the tide  is high,  her waves  riding, crashing, upon  the old  and crumbling  sea wall,  and behind the dunes, they that  tower with shifting  sands, moving  soundlessly,  endlessly, and inland slowly,  ever so slowly, a distant train,  ratt...

Send us Fan Mail She walked She walked  along the sidewalk in the early morning of December, beautiful through the dull,  the dark  and grey,  her face  a picture  of springtime,  the promise  of summer  who walked beside her, never having  gone away. Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me...

Send us Fan Mail Waiting for Snow Skies full  of moon  and light,  hidden behind  the darkness,  stars still  and burning,  the passage  of darkness,  in the coming   of the deeper  sleep of lengthening night,  For beneath the gathering  of shadows  and the fall of dusk,  the dark  of winter  into December, the longest night  And of the season’s  change,  coming in flocks  of invisible wings and t...

Send us Fan Mail I have tried to rewrite the nativity and place it within the war in Ukraine. It’s not perfect, needs a little more crafting perhaps, and this is a first through reading! Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback! p1964km@googlemail.com

Send us Fan Mail Snow Fall The dull,  heavy,  distant thud  of morning silence,  fills the snow  and fall  of December  dark and night,  for where else,  can one find  the dream  of summer, than in the falling  forget me nots  of snowflakes,  in the late  awakening  of dawn  and light? Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or th...

Send us Fan Mail Thumbprints The moon,  high above  the freezing morning,  in darkness,  partly hidden  behind  the passing clouds,  he shines  blurred, upon  the frozen earth,  along the valleys,  silent rivers,  mists, fogs  in season shrouds,  for the longest night  is approaching,  the days, hours  light, warmth and home echoes  of summer,  memories,  as across the sky  of stars  and fallen le...

Send us Fan Mail December  darkness,  the earth  enveloped  in seas  of clouds  and winter  grey,  hard to believe  the sun  will rise  above  the rooftops and  lift the stars  of light  from night  to day,  but for now  the world  is silent,  hushed  to stillness,  the trees  whisper songs  of wind  and summer,  the moon  hangs  in the tangle  of branches,  slipping  between  the hours  of midnig...

Send us Fan Mail Waiting for dawn ( Morning Coffee) Well, with coffee in hand, buttered toast and summer strawberry jam, there’s no sign of the day. Night still presses the darkness against the windows, the garden in outlines of black, lightening shadows and depths of grey.  I can see reflections of winter lights, the December Solstice and Christmas promises in the half reflections of my face, pee...

Send us Fan Mail Suddenly, she was awake.  Alert. Hyper aware of every detail around her. As she was before one of her migraines, her seizures that would blind her with a shocking, debilitating light. Her penultimate stop was called by the recorded voice. She winced. It was fully light now outside. She normally felt this way in the middle of the day when it happened: triggered by tiredness, stress...

Send us Fan Mail The Eye of Night  The eye of night,  watches,  blinks  behind creases  of clouds  across the ragged  winter dawn  of sky,  and through the standing trees  they that scrape  and tear,  rattling the truth  at the empty wind,  uselessly hanging,  blindly gesturing,   through invisible branches,  guessing which way  the beacons  of light  will slowly turn,  and above the lines  and fo...

Send us Fan Mail The train almost left without them. They hurried into the closing gap between the sliding door and the damaged door frame. They pushed their two battered suitcases first into the already full corridor. And then squeezed on board. She was heavily with child. Shawl over her head, hands crossed over her baby, already kicking, feeling her own stress inside.  He was not used to the peo...

Send us Fan Mail Caves  There’s no doubt, it’s December,  in the North,  a cave  of darkness,  hidden,  the skies,  blinded  the stars,  cover their faces,  in shrouds  of mists,  invisible hands,  from an earthly  view,  and below,  far below,  in the folds  and valleys,  the sinks  and rises,  of fields,  forests, rooftops,  walls,  shadows  of gardens,  time strikes  in distant bells,  chiming,...

Send us Fan Mail The Glove (3) She sighed. Clutched the single glove tight in her hand. A fortieth birthday present from her mother. She loved the tight, flexible fit, and the way her engagement ring pressed through and created a crown of creases that everyone could see who looked at her hands, even in winter, that it was something special. She sighed a second time. The carriage was warm.  Too war...

Send us Fan Mail Something Something  is waiting,  it may be  in the silence,  the unbroken   grey  of sky,  or the call and cry  of a single  freedom bird,  lost in the confusions, in the government of trees, but something  is waiting,  unbroken,  alone and standing in the sunlight,  leaves  of modernity and media  fragile,   resting,  wearily, on the shoulders  of this slow passing  darkness of...

Send us Fan Mail (Simply) Gone Away Hard to believe,  summer’s gone  away,  took up her hat  and left us, stealing our time  from memories, - and yesterday,  for I waited  so long,  dreamed for spring,  but then May  had left the blue,  the Spring promise  of skies,  and soon, t’was September  then October,  and her  longer goodbyes,  for the leaves  had already fallen,  their trees standing  bare...

Send us Fan Mail Somewhere  there’s a dawn  today hidden  in the great black sack  of morning darkness,  So I’ll reach up  to where the moon  should be,  find it,  hold it,  pull it down,  release the stars,  flood the dawn  with a million candles  of morning light  to  remind the day  to be. Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topic...

Send us Fan Mail In the hidden dawn,  across the fields  the hanging December  darkness,  a single Christmas tree  still and silent stands between the tilled earth  and the empty stars  of sky,  in colours  of light and hope,  it glows and tingles,  shimmering in the twilight  invisible upon the borders  and governments,  the negotiated settlements  the half-bombed houses  and the wrecked beliefs ...

Send us Fan Mail She wrote to me  a letter today,  came in the post,  it’s been such along time  since she passed  through this way,  I spent the day  wondering  if I should open it,  just to find out  for sure,  I was peeling back  the envelope  when I heard the knock  upon the front door,  I left the letter  on the table,  walked down  the empty hall,  passed by photographs  of her face,  the me...

Send us Fan Mail The Flood A flood  of darkness,  hidden  between  the earth, and a paling  morning  with trees  leafless,  fallen, glimpses in blinking  puddles,  for empty  of stars,  is this late  November sky,  and through and above,  the clouds  an invisible race  in ships,  through sails,  the wind  whispers, across heavens,   the wings  of day  arising, as the hours fleetingly, hauntingly,...

Send us Fan Mail The Glove. Chapter 2 1. The tram was approaching now. A shout of metal. A blast of air. It stopped a little before her. A clatter of doors and hurrying people pushing and shuffling into the smiling toothless gap left by the opening doors that hissed to one side. Unthinkingly, she gripped the umbrella with both hands. Shook it, closed it and was the last to step into the crowded bu...