A busy day. Three people in town. Goods are ordered online.
Colours, memories of a sunny autumn.
Yesterday
Wrought in heat and skill
The wind changes.
Tide in. Tide out. The people stay home.
Moored for winter
Next summer . . . ?
No Hands Shopping
Level Three
A pause, for ‘pen and pics’ to write first line.
Covid conquered, pretty much, we’re fine.
Progressed from Four, we’re now on Level Three.
I cycle further, enjoy the air, more free.
To my favourite swimming hole past grazing cows,
Take photos of a bee coz time allows.
Bake bread with wholemeal flour, yes, they’re good.
The sea, the bikeway round the neighbourhood.
Take a seat and rest, the next hill’s steep.
Now home but hush – the cat is still asleep.
No People, Sounds
The church still closed, she waits, a garden gate.
A post for neighbours, news, the postie running late.
The old not so adept ast fetching books online.
The vents are hushed, no chips, no restaurant to dine.
The morning light, the gardens – autumn’s glow.
Reflections in the creek, still running low.
No people, sounds, the town is quiet, old.
Last time was when the men could find no gold.
Shops closed, church closed
And all day to wander
For sale. But not just now.
From gold mining days.
Morning walks in the sun.
And below the stream is quiet
And below the stream is quiet. Until the rain, and the lawnmowers start.
Here I Give Thanks
To my mum and dad, thank you.
Affection, encouragement, restraint on near death –
Those experiments we boys must do.
We had everything, everything except money.
Home-made trailer, roof rack, ‘48 Vauxhall, four kids.
Holidays, sunburn, swimming, free fish.
When the money ran out, we came home.
Mum made clothes, darned socks and trousers.
Second hand was new. “It fits!” And Dad knew stuff.
Stuff about nails, thumbs and hammers and helped
Me fix the letter box that Mum didn’t back into.
“Six lamb loin chops please and Dad gets paid on Thursday.”
My Dad survived the war, the song of shrapnel, the fear . . .
until, “Do you notice something different Dear?’
Curtains? Dad’s eyes darting, Hairdo?
“Well?” Us kids knowing, silent smiling, God bless Mum and Dad.
Sunday Bubble
But not alone. Another solitary soul. Walking. Old friendship renewed. News. Depart at a distance and in goodwill.
Thames yesterday. And still standing.
Shops still closed. Reflections recalling yesterday.
Last stop before home. Top of the hill, a sit down.
Between the showers
Morning walks are calculated. April sun appreciated.
Heat pump turned on for the first time today.
After dinner walks not so common now. An earlier walk, then relax with dinner. Sunrise and sunset are more important than stepping out to ‘clocks back an hour’.
After four years I restore my bike. And slowly restore muscles, muscles for some time in ‘idle mode’.
*And the sun shines
Best view in town
Shortland Cemetery. A number of our visitors including from overseas have found a connection here.
* All in a day’s walk
Scenic spots on the back streets of Thames.
Get off the road, you’ll be killed. Lockdown, day 15, first day of our second half.
You never set this stuff when you’re driving.
But allowed out to walk
And walking further.
And my cupboard runneth over. Shops closed for over a week now.
Garden frontages you never see when driving.
A railway once ran behind this tree. Uplifted in 1985.
Pollen St, Thames main street. A new view without the cars.
David in Pen and Pics 