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

Suze said…
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.
16 June 2013 at 04:55
Lisa Southard said…
Loving the thought of desert winds: even though the dust wouldn't be pleasant, it's something I would like to experience.
16 June 2013 at 14:29
Suze said…
It was a wild night last night ...
16 June 2013 at 14:58
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

Image
There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Image
Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
Read more

Ditsy

Image
Ditsy has a brain made of polka dots. Or is it ice cream? You can ask her why she is wearing a flowerpot for a hat, she’ll say it’s not a hat, she just didn’t have a pocket the right size for it. One never knows when one will need a flowerpot. But why the shoes on her feet don’t match: mystery. Because, Tuesday? Ditsy has an apron, a polka dot apron. It has exactly the right sized pocket for a flowerpot. But if she moves the pot now, her hair will look silly! She will put her hat in the pocket instead. And a stick of rhubarb. And some sequins, for later.
Read more