Sunday 22 September 2019
A bit of a tidy up
I have no energy today, but I thought I ought to start going through cupboards and having a clear-out. The desperate clear out (of the 9/10 that went back in) will start should we get an offer at any time in the future.
A lot from this first cupboard went back in, but most of it is writing paper and notelets, some documents which need to stay regardless, some photos ditto, patchwork runners for the kitchen table and some other really beautiful embroidered pieces I have picked up down the years, a couple of boxes of business cards, hole puncher, staplers etc. What went were divorce letters (!), a Pony Club diary from 1981, random ancient letters from penpals, and several-years-old bank statements.
I also found a couple of blank verse poems I wrote - I can remember stopping the car on the way back from my dear friend Annie's when I had visited when she was so sick with pancreatic cancer. If I have shared them with you before, my apologies.
LATE WINTER IN THE MOUNTAINS
A carapace of moss spews over boulders -
A disrupted harmony of drystone blocks
And the tealeaf brown of leaves.
Tumbles of small birds swarm
In Beech trees that listen for spring,
Trunks plastered emerald from
Winter's steady drip.
Ancient boundaries slew with knotted roots,
Heaving boulders with nonchalance, and
A dank miasma of mist slimes the boggy valley
Like an abandoned shroud.
FIELD OF BONES
Gauntly tottering by, spectres at a feast,
In a field of bones and scattered fleece,
Athwart the rubble of a wall,
A death of ravens maul a carcass,
Wild of eye with bloodied beaks,
While the last survivors look in fear,
Aghast at their own fate.