Skip to main content

Swelter Tells The Chrysalis



When sunny days are not frequent or expected it is only polite and sensible to make the most of the lovely relaxing cheerful moment. Ideally, a kayak, a big lake and a picnic, but if it means lying in a sunshine rectangle in a bikini in the bed-sit window, then you should do it. I have, and it makes life a bit ridiculous in a very healthy way. Here I only wrestle the rusty sun lounger chair out of the Museum of Agricultural Artifacts and Sundry Articles (this is what we call the shed.) 









421
Mid morning quiet lazy time
Arrives, it’s too hot for cups of tea
I will find my sunglasses and drink cold
Coffee from a china cup and saucer

422
Smug and swelling
The fat late green
Tomatoes have been
Waiting for this extra sun

423
This moment can be maximised
With some effort, the reclining chair
Is heaved from the shed, I give myself
Permission to indulge in lounging

424
I have both book and magazine
Sun cream that smells like coconut
Pretend I’m on holiday, let my limbs
Slump, just being happy to be

425
Mammals and reptiles
Consummate at basking
With halfway eyelids
They float in burning air

426
A drowsy bee passes, overloaded
With pollens and the weight of heat
That seems to wobble it, a clumsy
Wooden puppet flight path

427
After a while I might look
At pictures of pretty dresses
The costume is part of how
You write the character

428
In these magazine dreams, I can
Review myself, paying attention to how
I enjoy the physical world, how I express
My own kind of beautiful

429
In my book I read a clever phrase
On the progression of dramatic styles, it
Highlights the eternal flux of the human condition
How we love and hate to change

430
Swelter tells the chrysalis
It is time, open up, let
Instinct press outwards
Into the unknown 









Comments

Lisa Southard said…
These pictures show some of the boggling array of stuff in the sheds- a tiny bit of it is ours, but mostly it's a history of the house owners and a testament to their hoarding skills. And the sketch of Vern is from a children's story I wrote and illustrated, it was a college project which I've uncovered recently. Vern and his bearded nemesis Hesper were inadvertently responsible for starting up running clubs.
Kwickix said…
This is a lovely literal description of summer at our house, the visuals are accurate too, unfortunately.....

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

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...

Back From The Future Blog Party

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 ...

A Glitch Or Two

My Chromebook has been crumbling. It seems a little like dementia, this inability to upgrade its powers of communication, it makes me sad, even for an object. It's one of the reasons my posts here have been put aside, that and generally being tumbled by tiredness. I have saved up money for a replacement, also I have spent that money on trees and shrubs. I have two novels to sort out however, and this will be the reason I save up again. I don't stop writing, even if I don't tell anyone. In the meantime should you need a calm place to go, I have begun a substack account. Please do drop by. If the kettle crumbles we can make tea (or soup) on the firepit. Me on substack:  Lisa Southard