As she considers the space
between possibilities
where thought
and synapse
she passes the static, the absence
and presence
of concrete and abstract.

Today, new eyes, a
shallow stream, further on
small birds
and the desire to name them –

a sound
on the tongue
shaped by neuron
and oxygen –

glistening wings
still wet
with ideas
and impossible perception.



bigpreview_Water Drops on a Leaf

How can a leaf
be described
without knowing
of its intricate design –

its connected journey
with the sun
and rain,
its synthesis with light?

I see a waterfall
within its serrated edges,
inside its veins
burns an orange moon –

a soul overflowing,
delusions stripped away
like the bark from a tree.
It shows me how to write.

A language on the air
like breath, a mind
an ocean, a country,
a single leaf.



These long summer days
wait by drowsy trees,
an empty lane, a signpost
which points towards low clouds
and a livid purple sky.

I can’t breathe
while the storm vibrates this way –
a sky on fire,
shapes and silhouettes
in the lightning flash,
shadows beating against the rain.

Then a sudden break in the clouds –
a swallow dips and dives, spins
a pirouette –
and a heart which feels so light
you think it must belong to someone else.
So much lost. So much yet to gain.



@Louise Hastings 2014

Lost in Blue


That moment of waking,
deserted streets, a pale
washed out sky, a woman
out alone, her footsteps tip tapping
along the bridge, a rushing
whoosh, a train thundering by
and a town like any other,
the dawn opaque, the woman, me.

The wind blows colder
and she isn’t lost, just half-dreaming
as morning shadows
fall across the kerbs and side streets –
a gust of wind, a bird taking flight,
then a break in the clouds. sunlight on glass
and the night forgotten,
the backdrop timed to her pulse.



©2013 Louise Hastings