last time this way there  was blood

dripping

fortunately

there was a handkerchief to staunch it

this morning it felt quite like autumn

when sprayed
with cosmetic fixative
glow pink

a tragic happening when

history and the day collide

each taking care of their own

as we should

darker hours

still

the mind wanders

i find
the memories are not as you may think.
i have new ones.

there seems to be an echoing a glitch in proceedings

so we came in the back way and exclaimed like blimey

there will probably be much of this with all this being

static like some caravans

and other mobile things

dark small cloud dropped rain.
still, the small birds sing

that all are temporary measures
temporary structures
and collage

so we can move things about

change things as we like

the roads here are winding, the leaves are changing.

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

concentrate, all comes into focus,
floating.

these are the warmer days, days of independance.

days to charm

tiny things become intimate

you may put them in cases, or hang on pins

straight or safety, it becomes political

the choice is yours

bulldog clips

seems there may be some connection

some call it a trigger

some things leave us cold and wondering

varying kinds
and ages

it dries and cracks if not stored with care

biscuit tins are useful

no snow here yet at all  and fairly warm just now. stood outside in the lightening dawn and noticed the birds come differing as if they know.

.the is an owl out there near the wood.

.i like this time, the new start as if nothing untoward  happens.

.later when light I remember it does.

decide which
petulant shadow hides
integrity.

honesty abounds yet the flags
will find us.

normal is what you know . normal is what your family is.

and then you learn different

learn different things

that others consider normal

later you make your own normal

choose

your own family

maybe we need to check our numbers at the end, see if one or more are missing.          count them carefully, one side then the other.it is all a pattern, that keeps us safely,        moves us
onward.

they used to be called siren suits here and were mainly designed to clothe children during the blitz I believe, and the fashion continued  after, though I never had one.

.was surfing the other moment and came across a heated garment, which sounded cosy and as for hands I have no idea.

.smiley face.

so you wake and hear the sound

then change your plans


arrow the tasks forward

then check the website and do not amend

accept the substitutes or refunds


move the car up

open the gate carefully so it does not break

again


these are little things


some of you out there are suffering

and how can I help?


the bear sighs and turns over

becomes part of the
pattern
a mark on the horizon


could change it for another yet it has become
a mantra


a pause like in breathing

comes a differing hue

with duck egg blue.

the ironmongers in town

at one seventy nine.

we can walk there and back or there

and bus back you see.

he said folk get used to anything

they say that manners maketh man,

yet boys in pyjamas

use them to be polite , asking for quality

behaviour.

wind blows ideas into our houses

messages bring connections

a busy day with folk talking

it was the weekend with time
to spare

they did not know she had many, neither did she. just collected one item at a time, cared fully for         each one of them.                                                                                                          catalogued

from the windows saw,

the softest steam morning

on the mountain.

the promise of another

day in wonderland.

all became a thing yesterday
regarding these marks of ours

a bit of a collaboration
on twitter and we finished
on this

i hope you do not mind

sea swim
is saturdays at ten in the morning,
sundays later at eleven.


this too remembered in the bathroom.
we use the pool, mainly.

maybe some do not plunge right in
just dabble on the surface

flick in puddles
like little birds

gently gently make those little
amendments

make things interesting

move it about

the clouds hang heavy

the mass, the clouds lay heavy, rain that came, that blinded again. blinded those that could not see the love and idle artefacts, each one a statement of nothing in particular.

were built where the chickens did live

where the old cottages were and some time back a photo occurred to remind.

bungalows

seemed modern to me, then the Shirley’s came, Mr and Mrs, with two boys in short trousers.

brian and the other one

they had wallpaper with galleons on while we had distemper  that was best not to lean on

my mum looked after those boys and once took them to grans

think it was Brian who slipped on the glass roof he climbed and split his leg open

next to them were a lady who had a baby born and showed me how to breastfeed with a rubber **** and me a child under 8

i think there were three bungalows in all

them days mother did not shop at coop,  nor did her mother  either, something regarding dividends

we watched it come down over the mountain spreading
slowly
as the cloud passed by the sun
after cooling indoors we went to see
the maker in the lower field

where is the power house,
metal books he said.

concrete palaces for those
that prey.

he grew it plant like,
fought it,
numbered it
thirteen.

goes where it leads me, a kind of conversation between me and the work, but drawing on what is in mind.

“A kind of diary?”

some was in code.

the numbers were senseless.

whatever was wrong yesterday is gone today, yet there is still that buzzing in the ears.

the mothth as collage.
a quiet ththing.

we here hope things there

are more settled than yesterday

yesterday in trying to say the right things

whilst also saying things

wished

possibly uttered the wrong things

wishing you well while realising that it is not at all well

have a photo here of up the valley
where they used to stook the harvest

all the family out working the fields

in the evening it came cooler
for rest

in having found a book to read

in the corner chair by the curtain

hiding


delivered free by the library in town


the excitement in finding the place ready

facing the fire

the weather steady outside

a while


the fabric rich and heavy

safe from the arctic storm

comes a wider space, with mistakes and misgivings.

nothing in this world is perfect. it is raining today.

deep holes,

cut grass and wiping stones.

there is a place.

the anxiety failed later in the day


a more comfortable place as i
watched other peoples ways and
opinions

we saw the lights in the village

one way,
and  another.

up poole hill
or down.

you kissed me.

don’t work if not connected, if not tuned in, you would think the experts would know that.  we need to signal to another.

thankyou for the prompt, the questions.

some times there is no answer, no words to describe.

yesterday i went alone to hold those feelings private

there was joy in the small things

chips from the shop the first for two years

ate in the sun under the particular trees

the absence of red soap and the joy of seeing the garden again, the galvanised cold frames

and wondering why only eight of her children were carved in the church recess when she bore ten

yet I tell you this

it were a lovely day with new surprises

and confirmation that I never wish to win

nothing

differing light

shades and all that surrounds

i drew them later
my way

some folk don’t say much
some folk manage
quite well

really

being independent

is your head clear today, loose limbs, while mild air floats above.   will you go the other way, as you did yesterday?

we lifted the soakaway cover rusty after years

saw a slow worm sleepy while ants ran about

placed the first in the ferns and waved to the others

drain rods functioned with a little resistance

distance calculated ,wiped and put away


indoors the sink runs clear

while i am educated

breaking cups    spilling tea will abuse the hospitality

please come. i have the kettle on.    this is not the time

for hostility

my goodness

such a thing to see while out
and about

such a high up place to be

in a field near here
along the main road
at hengwrt are three little

horses that run together
close
like in a circus those days

now there are no animals
mainly clever folk being smart
or funny

i miss the circus top
over by the cob

there is no panto either

which is an abbreviation for
pantomime

there are the stories james

with audience participation

have you been to the circus?