Small Pebbles

There, on the warm sand,
among golden shells,
a pure white stone glistens.

It is exactly,
as a small boy, I
imagined my soul might look.

Gibraltar Harbour
Beneath the surface
like ethereal spirits
a school of Mullet.

Through the fine rain haze,
the dark flash of wing, and a
bright orange eye-ring.

Soft slipper'd steps in
the hallway; song sweetly humm'd –
gentle sounds of love.


Drum of bins falling
the sound of bottles rolling –
a strong west wind howls.

Storm 2
Thrush in the Lime tree –
branches dancing in the wind -
shelter from the storm.

Storm 3
Slate falls from the roof,
shatters on the footpath;
creates a fine pattern