Today at Toads Bjorn Rudberg wants us to take a picture from the nearest window and write a poem of not more than a 100 words- see http://withrealtoads.
May is a breath away but
this morning a cold-bladed wind
chills the river,
puts ice in the sun.
Gulls gather at the weir’s edge,
scattered broken teeth holding
fast in a steel blue current.
It threatens to flush them down
to the river mouth
and fling them back out to sea.