Promised

Today started cool
and overcast
with promise of rain
in the forecast.
Possibly anywhere,
maybe not everywhere,
still some uncertainty.
Now the sun comes
and all hopes fast fade,
along with the shade.
Rain somewhere today,
but not here.

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Delivery

Expecting a delivery
I hear a bang
like the slam
of a van door.
Through the window
nothing, no-one there.

Then I see it;
the splat,
the smear of blood
on the pane.
I find no sign
of injured bird —

but oh
how it must have hurt.

Dead Bodies

In the morning we found
two dead bodies
on the patio and yet
no sound of fight
disturbed the peace
overnight.

Only a cat would leave
victims of crime
exposed like that
and vanish in a trice
leaving behind the bodies
of two dead mice.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The above incident is a bit of a mystery. Our cat used to leave us ‘presents’ but we no longer have a cat and indeed have not even seen one in our garden for many, many months!

Please note that I will now be taking a short break for about a week.

Weather Forecasters

While weather forecasters think to hone
their skill by pouring over images
from satellites and charts,
or study their computer programmes
believing it a science not an art,
while Mother Nature yet delights
in unpredictability and shams,
I think I could likely do as well
with a piece of seaweed or a fir cone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I wrote this earlier today it looked as if the forecasts were wrong again, having promised sunshine it had clouded over and looked like rain but no, the cloud dispersed and the sun came out. It’s a lovely day!

Unexpected Day

Today, an unexpected day.
I thought it would be wet
but no, despite a cloudy sky,
the cold edge of Winter’s breath,
it’s dry and an unassuming sun
placidly holds sway.

Squirrel

Squirrel,
wrecker of the bird feeder,
I do not begrudge you your meal;
it is winter and you are hungry too.
How I enjoy your antics but —
a little less destruction
if you will.

Echoes

The house looks bare,
the tinsel’s gone,
the baubles packed away,

no holly swags
now deck the halls,
no berries bright and gay.

Our feasting’s done,
just echoes now,
no carols left to sing,

but all around
I see the signs;
soon it will be Spring.

Romany Caravan

Trundling down the road comes
a barrel-shaped Romany Caravan,
drawn by a horse with its gentle clip-clopping,
holding up the traffic
but no-one really minding
as cars slowly pass, occupants smiling.

Strange Things

What strange things some people do.
Yesterday a lady I do not know
was plucking handfuls of grass
from the roadside verge
and stuffing it into a plastic bag.

Politeness got the better of curiosity —
I did not stop to ask but walked on by
as if it was nothing out of the ordinary
while pondering what explanation
might have emerged.

Dry

I’m hanging washing on the line.
Later forecast – heavy rain.
Here’s hoping I
can get it dry
before I get it in again.

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