NE63 Haiku

Chirping and singing  Warming light casts over us The whistle awaits

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

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...

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...

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...

"Wake up late, foggy Sunrise wakes before myself Work will have to wait" There is a specific kind of silence that greeted me this morning—the kind that only happens when you realize your alarm went off two hours ago and you slept right through it. For anyone who thrives on a structured start, waking up to find the sun already high in the sky is a jarring way to begin the day. Last night’s sleep was light and unrestorative, leaving me in a state of "brain fog" that felt impossible to shake. The Cost of a Late Start Being two hours late for work is stressful enough, but the real frustration came from the internal collapse of my morning. When you’re playing catch-up from the second you open your eyes, the things that keep you grounded are often the first to go: The Routine: I managed to grab breakfast, but the "essentials" like my breathwork and meditation were sacrificed to the clock. The Mindset: Without that 4-7-8 breathing to anchor me, the GAD (General...