Tuesday, 12 July 2016

An Old Joke and a lot of rain.

and bricks, and letters

Can this continue?

Can there really be more?

All night there has been no let up and it started the evening before.

The cat thinks so, it is not moving.

Staying put.

Dozing under the bed covers.

Me too.

Listening to the rain on the tin roof.

The thunder confirms it.

This is going nowhere.

Nor the cat.

Nor me.........

This looks like the end of summer, autumn’s return.

Revenge.

It comes in swathes of suffocating power.

Suddenly dropping with renewed anger.

Frightening at times, at others simply relentless.

The ground can take no more; the garden’s courgettes are swollen to obscenity.

Dreams, as we drift - cat and I - are about distant oceans.

Alaska I think.

My wife is there.


I’ll ask her.

int/50

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