Now the rain has stopped
the parakeets are noisy
and the soil is soft.

Hats and gloves come off
inside the vintage dress shop:
red lipstick, blond hair.

Five cyclamen bulbs
and a red anemone:
will tolerate shade.

Some sheep and ponies
in the fields that flicker past,
windscreen wipers on.

Red circle, white square:
a name for a new book.
Some sunshine at last.

The town clock strikes two.
A bus with misted windows
arrives at the stop.

On Friday I took a workshop with the poet Kwame Dawes. Kwame is one of the most inspirational teachers I know. At the end of the day I’d committed to writing a crown of sonnets and a haiku a day. The timescale? 100 days. I’ll be posting my haiku here.