NE63 Haiku

A New Season Awaits Where is the time going? The autumn equinox occurred on 23 September 2026 here in the UK, marking the beginning of autumn and the end of the “nice” British weather. To be fair, we have had an unusually good summer, with plenty of sunshine and very little rain. The lack of rain can be a concern, though, as it means hosepipe bans, lower reservoirs and reduced crops. Luckily, where I live, that's not too much of a concern. Got to love the North East weather! With autumn coming, it means darker mornings and evenings, which can put people in a downward mood. Myself included. Though there are things to enjoy about the new season. The changing colours of the leaves, with their hues of warm colours; the cosy nights in with loved ones; Harvest Festival; Halloween; kicking and walking on fresh, crispy fallen leaves. There's so much to enjoy about these darker couple of seasons. But how did we get here so soon? It only seems like yesterday I was taking Cooper out for h...

Heartbeat racing now Son shining, breeze pushes back This hero retires The 20th August 2026, 18:30... a date and time I won't forget. Now you're probably wondering why. That's a very good question, and I promise I'll get back to why. Just humour me for a moment... It's nearing the end of the kids' summer holiday from school. It's pre-season for Max's football team, and the lads have been training throughout the six weeks off, having the odd friendly and taking part in a tournament (the less we say about the tournament, the better). The lads have been working hard on their fitness, game tactics and formations. Having been part of the coaching team, it's been great watching them grow, especially Max. It's also a privilege to help shape these young kids' lives. To help them not only on their football journey, but also as they develop into young men. Learning resilience, patience, teamwork, how to win graciously and how to lose. Now, Thursday...

Green rows, red berries Summer warmth beneath blue skies Memories linger

Sun rays, skin prickles Silence broken by laughter Calm washes outward

Shouts of cheer ringing Warm sun broken by drizzle Clouds of frustration

Mjolnir strike s the skies Flooding streets, halting progress  Tiredness and rest

Shuffling, heads bowed down Black mirror reflecting back Disconnected world

Mourning sky weeping Lilies, daffodils, tears, joy Rest well, sweet Maureen

Chirping and singing  Warming light casts over us The whistle awaits

Golden hour rays Aromas slowly drift Laughter lifting soul

Confused sky, wet, dry Ground soft underfoot, grass slick journey comes to end

Spring leaves sway gently Rain drops cling to wood and steel Holiday come to end

Slow moments passing Sunlight, sunset, darkness comes Duties for family

Hazy dreams slipping World turns, sun warm, life passing Night shift awaits now

Sea waves catch sunlight Sand golden and stretching wide Childhood memories I had a bit of time to spare, so I pulled up at Church Point, looking out over the bay. The sky was mostly clear, just the odd white cloud drifting by. There was a light sea breeze coming in — not cold, just enough to remind you where you are. It’s a place I’ve been to more times than I could count growing up. Days spent on the beach with my brothers, parents, aunties, uncles, and cousins. The kind of days that felt like they went on forever. Building sandcastles. Digging holes deep enough to bury each other in. Picnics on the sand. Ice cream never lasted long enough. Standing by the water, trying our luck with a fishing line, more for the moment than the catch. Sitting there now, watching the water move in and out, it all started to come back. Not all at once, just little pieces drifting in, the same way the clouds were overhead. There wasn’t much else to do in that moment. Just sit, wait for the time to pass ...

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...

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.

Views foggy, sky grey   Air chilled, heavy on the chest   Someone shares my words The day felt muted from the start. Fog hung low, the sky a flat grey that dulled everything it touched. One of those days where the air feels heavy, pressing in a little, mirroring the mood rather than lifting it. Nothing dramatic — just that slow, familiar winter greyness that seeps into the bones. Then, unexpectedly, a small interruption. A notification appeared to say that a stranger had shared one of my haiku on Instagram. No message, no explanation — just the simple act of passing it on to their own followers. It caught me off guard in the best way. In a day that felt closed in and colourless, it was a quiet reminder that these words don’t just sit here on the page. They travel. They land somewhere else. I didn’t feel elated or suddenly energised — just gently lifted. Enough to notice the moment, enough to write this haiku. Sometimes that’s all it takes: a small human connection cu...

The wind howls near Restless limbs fuel racing thoughts  Sleep eluded for hours Sleep didn’t come easily last night. After the family party, the house finally went quiet, but my body hadn’t caught up. I’d spent most of the evening behind the bar, serving drinks, staying switched on, being sociable — all while staying sober as the designated driver. It’s a strange kind of tiredness, the one where you’re present for everyone else but holding yourself slightly apart. We got to bed much later than usual. I could feel it straight away — restless limbs, a mind that wouldn’t slow. The energy drink I’d had earlier to get through the night was still hanging around longer than I’d hoped, buzzing beneath the surface. Outside, the wind howled close to the house. Inside, sleep slipped just out of reach. Hours passed in fragments rather than rest. This haiku came from that space between exhaustion and wakefulness — when the night won’t let go, and the body keeps the score even after the noise ha...