Another story?

Ahead of me a young man, good looking, emerges
slipping silently from behind a tall back gate.
Crosses the road and just as silently disappears behind another
 ... ah, but if he had, he surely would have been more furtive, more dishevelled?

Before I get up

The uneven hiss and faint murmur,
occasional single spot plink,
informs me I will need boots today.

Mistakes happen

Misread the clock.
Up and dressed before I realised it was four not five.
This time a lack of careful observation
Oh well.

Decision time

A need, next week, to write, not type, sets me to wondering what’s best.

I like the fine convenience of propelling pencils
but words too quickly smudge to illegible.
Asked my daughter, who recommends fine-liner felt tips,
remember that roller balls can be so smooth,
and that biros are best not the cheapest 
and realise I need to go to Staples.

Not cricket

Overripe plums, mostly red, some grey with mould,

scatter-patterned across the lawn

less than successfully bowled from the branches above.

Geese again

Even more briefly, no more than a glimpse,

dissension resolved, two dozen or more,

in chevron, pass close by my window.

Briefly

The geese down by the unseen river,
greet the golden dawn
with what sounds like group dissension.

Misunderstood

Those sparrows, mentioned on the sixteenth,
I realise now, were not excited by the pond,
just on their lunch-hour.

Just now - 05.39

Briefly, for a moment, from the colour

the sky old fashioned blotting paper

and the clouds blue-black Quink ink

Waking thoughts, having read in one sitting yesterday.

Picked up from ‘Help the Aged’

a book the blurb for which implies it’s teenage sex.

But it turns out to be multi-levelled;

much more on family and the damage they unwittingly do

and the cloying, clutching nature of a friendship based dishonestly on guilt.

[‘A certain age’ by Rebbecca Ray]