google when back at home, read about
people, and know we may after all
be twins.

who knows which hour it starts,
which minute, rhyme or reason.
breaking of rules,        our hearts
open.                         split a season.

on spring,                 slight chance,
light            or prayers can change.
sons      move in a prouder stance,
yet others rage.

black bird sings   early
the same bird calls late.
sense that nearby
one year came straight.
spring slides. the
moon draws tides.

so a copy and paste

and hang the washing out


despite the storm

to spite the storm

coming


she said it would be difficult

and it was

the early days

despite predicted text


the wonder was if he came back

to talk things over

or discuss what had happened since


how would the conversation be this time


it is what is wanted

that will never happen


what if he had died that night

and

he rose the morrow morn

the roads here are winding, the leaves are changing.

best not to bang the teapot down on serving, best
to tell the truth.

told you, no one will listen if we are quiet,
they have all lost interest’

yes.

‘do they only listen to loud folk , those that  shout
and remonstrate’

seems so.

the mothth as collage.
a quiet ththing.

seems we have a similar taste, rather gathering than buying​
prefer reclamation than boutiques

seems we gets busy here and there
yet cannot verbally explained why we write

and paint

today we deliver eggs to blaenau
the family

and travel by bus
a splendid route

you know

a pinky glow

she said that it was the coldest night for years

and I forget how many

blimey. is like a little insect
hopping about up there




it has been a pleasant few days
regarding weather and rearranging

things

especially garden benches
increased in price recently

with the need to assemble

it was decided to swap the one out the back for that up by the lane here

carried through the house as the hall runs front to back

previously an alley between
where swallows nested

now closed off and furnished
all a bit of an obstacle course

with the garden seat in hand




it did not fly very high

there is time now to wipe the windows
like the others did

now there is furlough with days to spare

as a kid
i watched the water run


waiting

a hope for mint
chocolate
from the shop

those days we were left a while
with time to watch
the water run

she said she liked the stories

except I did not tell them

i never tell you much

nor all of it

there are bits left to fill in

yourselves

are you afraid?

did you

wonder why some of us come private?

maybe a result of intrusion

finding letters opened or not finding them at all

until too late

that is why i am afraid

finding these memories difficult
to relate

may abstain in despair

to say it all caused great harm

really

as did your request for him to hit me for wearing old trousers

that is why i am afraid

there comes a time when buttons
take on a simple importance

taking on from hooks and eyes

stitched on card.

white threads

found a new way to focus

block out the bad
the negative thought

not many liked it yet
I knew I had learned some thing
valuable

something to remember

will I eat the walnuts with raisins

from my mother’s saucer

then move the hour hand with my finger


shall I decline your invitation to walk

suggest a chat in open air


these are questions that need no answers


most things are past

done with then put away neatly into boxes

until that random ****** day the door flies opens

and it all spills out again

with them being round and smooth

slipped off and rolled away.



when dry we looked and looked

yet cannot find them

anywhere yet

what is it?

how will they know for thinking
comes silent inside our heads
unless we utter

look at you promoted from the use for which you were designed

a white enamel was desired
yet a galvanised was ordered

and though come lovely also
came too big for the space so

used to carry in the exotic logs
which help the environment and
crumble on the floor otherwise if
not contained somehow

the problem continued upstairs
so we moved you there yesterday

a new chapter
a new purpose

you succeeded nicely

i too reflect this story
start a new chapter
without purpose

really

and accept the predictions
as they seem to come correct

it was not a thought as such
more of a knowing

there is a photograph

come random

light is wonderful


lifts the brain and limbs
beyond


sparkles rain the morning


once again we have the repetition

he was worried over the empty barn. #metaphor .it  survives,

some

way.

stopped a while as the lightness started

round me they flew never touching
we laughed in delight
at this natural thing

drawing the child with found fabrics
watching the marks come good, no dots
intended


yet they came
without warning

added bits and embellishments which caused remark
while the space between lines was so immense my head came heavy with drowsy
fell off
&
i did not return

hope to revert to an earlier
idea of smudge and carbonate
james


you see
there is no control
only that we think we have
which is probably all imagined

there is a nice long beach and lovely views out to sea

the sea that is rising

so here on the night watch,
all is quiet , no birds sing.

touched by the small thing,
softly, we drew together,
with words, and gestures
in air, in mind.

sometimes
a while in a box
will do nicely…

have a nice star symbol on the forecast
six sided
and while I hear rain now
on the cat slide
know there will be no walk early
again

have tear drop symbols too
which is correct so a good
job done here yesterday

it would be no good today

cat howled as i put her out
she slept on the dining room
table again

all the telling that the uncut moquette
is most comfy
goes unheard

preferring dark wood

each day I wash and polish
hoping for a change in attitude

i have stories on the shelf
may write them one by one
some day

as

yesterday I verbalised some

the job sounds fine
out and about

he liked that
the freedom

early yet
I have to tell you
that
i went a different way
to avoid the usual

don’t use a teapot

but evidently many do,

and cosy up together.

they don’t squish teabags, have leaves,

and stewing on the gas ring,

like mother, reducing it to

poison on my tongue.

i like the leaves to look at,

smell, like the small packet

we used to have, paper lined

in those days.

what is in that bag in the car?

you mean the brown paper bag from the bakers?

yes.

well there are his clean pants and his socks.

and

the leaflet about the manchester ship canal

you wanted.

also is a light bulb.

do you remember the electrician advised her of the peculiar property

of bulbs, well

she gave me a bag of the discarded ones

which all worked.

anyhow, one is a small ***** in and does not fit my lights here.

it will do for the light in my bedroom at yours.

thankyou. i will put it in the bedside drawer.

yes. that is what i thought too.

i hope you get to go on the manchester

ship canal.

a thing so private, so intense .   . simple , complex. no one will see it .  

                        note your achievements to date.                     .hell no

using the light spots,
neglecting the dark,
except the margins.

so we go
dear child moving
forward.

the voices rather quiet. we have had a life time
of listening, yet not understanding really.

so let us go forward and compare

we should look after things
better. i wrote a thing a while
back. it filled my head with
pictures.

may be best to go with whatever feels right

honey on toast suited us  while

now coffee is off the menu here

and eggs mayonnaise is back

on

today found the co -op depressing

so bought home made ice cream

yn bala

yn is possibly welsh for in

now your name may be redeemed
your wanderings freed into new

adventures

or maybe you will still stay inside a while

inside the boundary lines

four fields

corona

blows ideas into our houses

messages bring connections

a busy day with folk talking

do not know everything

only my version

a fraction of the whole

blue sky thinking

here

how small
how white the child
skin rinsed with tears

salt in the wind

early

have rubbed a little place on the window
to see the snow falling

she disliked that
my mum

said it left a mark
that she would have to clean the window
again

never mind the excitement of snow

don’t find it attractive to lay in
you know the angel thing

otherwise the white and quietness
are welcome

at the very bottom of my garden

down by a wood pile and rusting
implements

have come the snowdrop drift

and also

over there and there and
by the gate

i walk outside once a day for exercise
and enjoyment

to explore

then later I walk round the garden
look at every tiny place

today I will take photographs

james

do not dignify the challenges. tread sweetly,

move on.

it is simply.

not worth fretting.

Awake a while I have now my coffee  and bun.

Have plans for the day yet it depends on supplies and temperature. 

No news since we spoke.  The pod cast was about the titanic yet I drifted off…..

The light is on over in the village and I wonder who it may be.

Birds sing.

do you not know the name, some do

and believe in her. the rod of jesse.



some say it is a pillar of salt

yet the news says most people

don’t.

a darker green,
jasmine climbs the window,
storms brew, we are older now.

now is small stuff on paper
as who cares anyhow

we just carries on

regardless

good to be out in the air
these days

good to be warm

there comes a time when buttons
take on a simple importance

taking on from hooks and eyes

stitched on card

white threads

they say it is hardy
never wears out

my skin crawls to see it on the loom

there is a sensitivity there
that came from suggesting

he was wrapped in blankets

that is how the conversation started

james

later it turned to lentils
with the addition of various
flavourings

there was no message from you yesterday

perhaps you went visiting like me

perhaps you went over the back amongst the slate

and bright green ferns growing new

along the track we always use when I am there

down the ***** that scared  me
and my hand was held kindly

we looked in the camp
the clues then moved on

there was a beetle and passers by
who made space

and the recommended book
was never opened

perhaps you did something like that too?

light the darker days
of gloom and melancholia
born from intrusions

and swede.

this is quality,
a fortunate piece.

do not know everything

only my version.

a fraction of the whole

blue sky thinking

here