While I'm here ... Poor Whitney

A tribute, of sorts

(For Whitney)

Snow on the bough snuggles about
the form of a blackbird, her brown feathers
still, now, her hymn stolen by the gale
buffeting the twigs that built her cage.

So cold, this weather. A chorus of beaks
unite, for a moment, to mark the end
of a heart-rent song sent to the heavens
too soon, too soon. A snowdrop blooms.

Dear lordy ...

... look at the dust in this place! Is that a tumbleweed?

Truth is, I've been preoccupied with the real-life stuff, such as trying to find work, scrounging for food ... that usual sort of stuff that penniless poets have to indulge in every now and again.

And seeing as I'm particularly looking for work as a webcoder, I've also been busy with some redesigning of my website -- because every webcoder needs a portfolio, innit!

Anyways, the first results of my work can be found over at poems.rikweb.org.uk - note the change of address from 'co' to 'org'!

So, if anyone has any feedback on the website's design, I'd be most interested to hear it! 'EverImproving' is my motto, for this week at least.