Hedge Lesson



Yesterday's morning: the hedgerow grasses rubbed like dry lips.
Clouds wrung out drops.
In the afternoon, wet-dabbed flora shivered.
A choppy sun was there, sudden and warm.
All day the wind howls. A half load of washing takes every peg.


Comments

  1. Suze16 June 2013 at 04:55

    We had this strange, unexpected wind blow in. The kind that, in the desert, brings visibility to next to nothing with what feels like all the dust in the world.

    I love your last line. I can feel and understand that.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lisa Southard16 June 2013 at 14:29

    Loving the thought of desert winds: even though the dust wouldn't be pleasant, it's something I would like to experience.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Suze16 June 2013 at 14:58

    It was a wild night last night ...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Light On Our Feet With Good News

Image
Friday 23rd April 2021 We go into Launceston town, park in the long stay because all parking is free until May 17th (when the hospitality industry restarts). We are early and Mr’s knee hurts so we pick a charity shop without stairs; Mr buys a faux leather jacket, I pick out a summery top. Bargains curled in hand as neither of us has a bag, we find our way to the office and ask for our trainee solicitor, a young chap in a slouchy silvery suit. He comes out of a meeting, nervous, finds an empty room, and we follow him in. There’s a big blue folder of searches and enquiries which we look through, young chap jabbing a finger at relevant bits, his hands are not steady. We think the paperwork is probably satisfactory but this is new territory so it’s all leap of faith stuff - deep breath, take up the pen, sign. We leave the signatures, take the folder, and our bargains, go to Barnecutts and choose a bun each. I pick a plain chelsea, Mr goes for a rocky road. Celebratory carbs that we c
Read more

Breaking The Heat And Keeping Focus

Image
Sunday 5th September 2021 From August to September was a tumble in time, with many visits from friends and family and I wish I’d taken more notes. There are photographic records. The fields are cut, baled, the bales loaded, gone. We have fed everyone a sour bullace and sometimes a sloe and guffawed at their face pulling. We camped out and saw the barn owl’s pale swoop again. Today in the tree tunnel out from Lawhitton to Launceston I noted how the succession of warm dry days has left the leaves like dusty green leather, like the covers of old spellbooks in a forgotten library. At work we are staying in as the Tour of Britain bikes through Cornwall and roads are closed and many campers and caravans are pouring down the A30 but indoors we can have a YouTube sea and the back door open and admire the blooming pots. Writing going little by little and good, pretty much like the land progress. Wednesday 8th September 2021 The turn of phrase used here is ‘the storm broke the heat.’ Low
Read more