Supermarket Shopping Thys fellowe smyles I knowst hym welle.Yn ower smalle toun. A search, he delvesWhere canst be it, we kannot tell.In Pak and Save among the shelvesBye nite be murmrings, little elvesDo frolik, change thyngs on displaeAnd kepe us guessyng eche new day Yon lane Sixs lirks baykinge powrdre.And be therre Pam’s and EdmondsContinue reading “As Chaucer Might See It”
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Yes, a Daylily
Visitor has arrived I return from my river swim An exercise Serious A weed cutter whines Cat stretched on warm concrete “Yes, a Daylily. Hemerocallis”
Ain’t Easy Being a Cat
Planning dinner Shopping Clearing magazines from coffee table Thinking stuff to amuse humans
Lunch on the Way
Thames Junction Hotel. A historic building established in 1869, the beginning of the gold mining days. This was the days of steam. The days and nights of the gold stampers, noise, ground vibrating, and at midnight Saturday the citizens would wake. Silence. The Lord’s day. All this 20 years before the advent of electricity, but,Continue reading “Lunch on the Way”
Head up. Shoulders back
The mysteries of supermarket shelves unravelled. Tomorrow… Prescription, name forgotten, the computer knows it all. Free, long live Public Health. Oops, thought that said pubic for a minute. Find my car. Look casual, keep looking. It’s grey. On bright days a different colour grey. Look casual.
Home Made
Gluten flour, sunflower seeds, sweat and tears kneading. 37 minutes at 180° Celsius.
A walkway runs beside our petanque terrain. This time of year we meet visitors, German, Dutch, French. Two people from Toulouse stopped and watched our play. Accepted the invitation to join in. Serious players in the thought and precision of each shot.
The Playground is Empty
A child’s sock. A shirt. The river to myself today. 23°.
The Signal Box Still Stands
Restored, remembered, my grandfather worked her. My mother the youngest of seven daughters.
Woe is Me
My grandfather has frittered away my inheritance. From a wealthy family in England to Coromandel NZ he tried his hand at gold mining. And so it came to pass I am born into the working class. Forget the commiserations, just send the money.
David in Pen and Pics 