NE63 Haiku

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

Shuffling, heads bowed down Black mirror reflecting back Disconnected world

Rays of golden light Goosebumps in the spring breeze Efforts came up short

Showers start and stop Golden sunset breaks through grey Mirrors progress made

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...

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. ...

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...