NE63 Haiku

Whistle ringing loud Off-white clouds blanket the sky Pride bursts from my chest There was a familiar feel to the morning. A 10am kick off under an off-white sky, clouds stretched out overhead while the wind came and went in bursts. It felt like good football weather. Coming into the game, it carried a bit of weight. First one back after last week’s defeat, and for the opening 20 minutes, it showed. The lads didn’t quite look themselves. A little off it, a little slow to settle. But they found their way into it. We went 1–0 up after 12 minutes. A solid start. Three minutes later, the opposition pulled it back. Then not long after, they went ahead, making it 2–1. It felt like one of those games that could drift away if we let it. Right before half time, we found the equaliser. 2–2 going into the break. The game felt intense. Not frantic, just heavy with importance. At half time, it wasn’t about tearing into them — just staying positive, encouraging them to trust themselves and put the w...

Cherry blossoms bloom Old church waits in silence still I linger between There wasn’t much of a plan for the walk. Just time to fill while Cooper was getting groomed, a chance to get some steps in and move a little. Walking through Morpeth, I passed St George's URC Church and slowed without really thinking about it. A cherry blossom tree stood outside, fully in bloom. Bright, soft, new. It caught the eye straight away. The church beside it felt the opposite. Still. Weathered. Waiting. It wasn’t cold, not really. That in-between kind of air — warm enough for a hoodie, but not quite ready for a t-shirt. That same in-between feeling seemed to settle in my thoughts, too. Standing there, I found myself drifting a little. Where am I at the minute? Am I actually healing? Am I moving forward, or just staying busy? Where was I six months ago compared to now? No clear answers came, but it didn’t feel urgent to find them. Just standing there, between something old and something new, felt enou...

Air foggy and cool Clock tick tock tick tocks slowly Tired bloated body There’s a strange stillness that comes with a first night shift. Not silence exactly—machines hum, footsteps echo, tasks keep stacking up—but something in the air feels paused, like the world outside has taken a breath and forgotten to let it go. Tonight, the fog has settled in thick and low. It wraps itself around everything, softening edges, muting distance. Even through the windows, you can feel it—cool, heavy, unmoving. It matches the way my mind feels. Not sharp, not clear. Just… there. It’s my first night shift, and time isn’t behaving the way it normally does. The work is steady, demanding even, yet the clock drags its feet. Each minute seems to stretch, as if it’s resisting being counted. Tick, tock. Tick… tock. The rhythm is there, but it feels off-beat, like it’s out of sync with everything else. My body isn’t helping much either. There’s a weight to it tonight. Bloated, sluggish, tired in that deep, quie...

Rain falls after sun Slick grass tamed by muddy boots Late victory comes Sunday morning, 11:30am kick-off. A dry start, the kind of calm that makes you think the game might settle early. We didn’t wait long. Ten minutes in, we go 1–0 up. A strong start, confidence high. But football has a way of pulling things back — ten minutes later, the opposition find their equaliser. Game on. Then the weather turns. The rain comes in, steady at first, then heavier. What started as a clean pitch quickly becomes slick, muddy, unpredictable. Every touch matters more. Every step just that bit harder. Half-time arrives with everything still level. A team talk, a reset. You could feel it — the need to dig in, to stay together, to believe there was more in the game. The second half becomes a battle. Not pretty, not easy. Just effort, determination, and moments of grit. And then, in the final 15 minutes, it all opens up. One goal. Then another. Then a third. From the nerves of a draw — and the worry of wh...

Sea of yellow blooms Rhythmic swaying in the breeze Spring arrival calms Coming off night shifts always leaves the day feeling slightly out of step. I had a short nap earlier, just enough to start turning my sleep pattern back towards normal, but the fog of nights still lingers for a while. The afternoon school run felt a little slower than usual as I headed out to pick Grace up. While waiting at a roundabout, engine idling and watching for a gap in the traffic, I noticed a bank of daffodils just off the roadside. A whole stretch of them, bright yellow against the grass. A light breeze moved through them, and they swayed together in a gentle rhythm that was almost hypnotic. For a moment, the traffic, the tiredness and the rush of the day faded into the background. Daffodils always feel like one of the first real signs that spring has arrived. After weeks of grey skies and winter weather, seeing that sudden burst of colour felt like a quiet reminder that the seasons are shifting again. ...

Sky bleeds red to blue Light dancing on diamond frost Hands cold scrape windows After six days off, it was back to work this morning. The alarm came early and I was out of the door just after 6am, still adjusting to the idea of a workday again. The sky immediately made it worth stepping outside though — a stunning sunrise stretching across a clear morning sky , colours slowly shifting from deep red into blue. It had been warmer recently, so the cold came as a bit of a surprise. The car was covered in frost and the air had that sharp bite that wakes you up quickly. Scraping the windows wasn’t exactly how I wanted to start the morning, cold hands working over the glass while the engine warmed. But at the same time, the frost caught the sunrise perfectly, sparkling as the light hit it. One of those small moments where a little annoyance and a little beauty exist at the same time.

Days getting warmer Clear blue stretching overhead Cooper runs ahead There are walks that feel routine, and then there are walks that quietly reset something inside you. This was one of the latter. The days are finally beginning to warm, the kind of warmth that doesn’t demand attention but gently reminds you that the seasons are shifting. The sky was clear and wide, a clean blue expanse with nothing pressing down, nothing urgent. Just space. Cooper felt it before I did. From the moment we set off, he was pulling ahead with purpose, running into the walk rather than through it. That familiar tension on the lead wasn’t frustration — it was joy. Momentum. A dog fully present in the moment. We covered just over four kilometres in an hour, a steady, refreshing pace that gave my thoughts room to stretch out and loosen. The air felt lighter, my body moved more easily, and for once, I wasn’t watching the clock or carrying the weight of the previous days. This haiku came from that simple rhythm...