At Glasgow Central

At Glasgow Central,
hungover, a whole hour
passes in a blink.

Man on a ladder

Man on a ladder
looks round from his window frame
to my passing train.

In this gloomy dusk

In this gloomy dusk
those dogs and dull humming trains
could be anywhere.

There is more than glass

There is more than glass
between the pouring rain and
the sweet purple lights.

This house without you

This house without you:
as devoid of purpose as
autumn without leaves.

Honey pie, I wish

Honey pie, I wish
I could catch you when you fall
asleep in the pub.

After breakfast he

After breakfast he
walks outside to meditate –
my cat, Zen master.

One combs my back yard

One combs my back yard,
one the neighbour's; uniformed,
a magpie patrol.

As the lamp goes off

As the lamp goes off,
the Windows shutdown theme plays;
bedtime, honey pie.

We curve and the moon

We curve and the moon
is suddenly released and
silvering our path.

Another couple

Another couple,
forty years our seniors,
through the autumn leaves.

Tonight's cold air has

Tonight's cold air has
escaped from the vowel sounds
of 'brittle' and 'crisp'.

The clocks will go back

The clocks will go back;
for now the streetlight shines through
your wet morning hair.

A timber lorry

A timber lorry
passes by: in its honour,
the autumn leaves dance.

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Ask for the top 40 place
of the nightingale!

Mute, accusingly

Mute, accusingly,
and blackening in the rain,
the tree stumps stare back.

Stories held by the

Stories held by the
twinkly lights behind the trees –
held, and never told.

This misty coach ride

This misty coach ride
offers up, in runny inks,
London's silhouette.

See these autumn leaves?

See these autumn leaves?
Just exult that something can
die so gorgeously.

Kid at the football

Kid at the football
turns around to fix me with
the world's widest eyes.

Past a studio

Past a studio,
as band noise floods the street, a
solo singer walks.

Even the squirrel

Even the squirrel,
carrying a horse chestnut,
knows of tomorrow.

Just as the rain stops

Just as the rain stops,
a gust starts a new shower –
of brown and gold leaves.

The calendar's turn

The calendar's turn
put into the shade by the
sputtering gas fire.

The town boundary

The town boundary:
bold and high on a lamppost,
a crow stands sentry.

Autumn tree keeps hold

Autumn tree keeps hold
of sprays of scarlet leaves: a
firework, frozen.

As I down my pint

As I down my pint,
white lines round the glass suggest
plane trails, tree rings, waves.

Day after a gig

Day after a gig,
the guitar sounds as dull and
tired as I feel.

Below the guitar

Below the guitar,
the soft hiss and crackle of
potatoes baking.

A cat accosts me

A cat accosts me
for a stroke. Her owner says:
"She thinks you'll feed her."

The leaves on the ground

The leaves on the ground,
the same orangey-brown as
the cat on this wall.