Skip to main content

Jovial


A restless night, where a volume of thunder blows away sleep. In the morning clouds stack and part and here is the sun, a warm salutation of sun.
Sit down to write and the light shines direct into my eyes.
What?! I ask of this phenomena: humorous cosmos, most humorous!
Sigh; for I will have to push the table back to clamber out of my seat and walk every one of those five steps to the window and shift the wooden clothes horse to lean in, unwind the cord, let the blind down halfway.
Shadow ivy shimmies and the breeze whispers like shantung silk.



Comments

Suze said…
I am left curious about what sets shantung silk apart from other kinds. :)
8 January 2014 at 01:05
Geo. said…
Closing line and photo compose an indelible image. Beautiful.
8 January 2014 at 09:10
Lisa Southard said…
Shantung is a raw sort of silk, but lightly weighted with few slubs. I was going to simply say 'raw silk' but raw has connotations of pain and raw silk can be quite heavy, neither of which fitted the experience. I used to work in a fabric shop so have a residual fascination for how texture and colour affect a scene. Don't always remember the names of fabrics, I did google this. Shantung is a nice word too :-)
Thank you Geo: it was beautiful: it always is: though today the view is more about raindrops!
8 January 2014 at 11:55
Post a Comment

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...
2 comments
Read more

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 ...
26 comments
Read more

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
Post a Comment
Read more