sliver (17/August/18)

for a brief moment an autumn sky brokered the morning, blink and you might miss it… I didn’t blink, I didn’t miss it… and then all too soon it was gone consumed in a flat summer grey, the kind of grey only summer invites to the party, the kind that doesn’t know what to do with itself so just hangs around side-kicking invisible dust, hands in pockets, hood up, blank stare, forgetting to remember… something it forgot to remember… bleeding a lack of imagination… a single swallow sieved the sky for morning vagrants… the early bird gets the… moths in their case, daddy long-legs, tiny spider who spun a single strand of silk to take them up into the jet stream but first have to run the gamut of the swallows whiskers and keen turn of speed… last evening there were dozens making the most of the usual time of day feast flitting through clouds of unwary insects… I wonder if they consider being eaten, that they might be next… regardless it’s too late when they are become bird food, largely at the mouths of swallowing swallows gulping and swooping preparing for the journey which for some will be their first and will do without a second thought the thousands of miles migration they’ve never done or seen before but will do it anyway without question… autumn’s here but keeping a low profile… for now… only giving itself away at times it thinks no one is looking or paying attention as people generally don’t, being far too busy with their own tiny worlds to bother with the much bigger one they perch upon increasingly precariously-so…… I think it wants us to know it’s there though, waiting and sometimes not waiting, patient but cutting a sliver from the hem… it sees the threadbare, the ragged robins, the early fruits ripened far too soon, lost leaves, dead-heads, it notices every nuance with the discernment of an horologist for whom the balance is to the watch what the pendulum is to the clock……

© 2018 robert greig

burrs (14/August/18)

the wind clung on as long as it could but eventually surrendered to drizzle leaving just sweepings barely brushing the leaves as finings of air were dampened and deadened and dragged rebellious to the ground… it hoped to do more, see another day but instead was given only a taste just enough to extort a regret as rain determined and decided its fate… it had fair warning but when does the wind ever listen to any other than itself, too busy gyrating, berating umbrellas, bullying branches, bartering breezes for the calm before that already calmly walked away when it could unseen and unheard… but in the end its enthusiasm got the better of it and frayed becoming threadbare, a scrabbling, babbling, shambling vagrant with nothing to share but a pocketful of burrs…

© 2018 robert greig

oldest youngest (13/August/18)

“I remember once upon a time I was the youngest”, she remembered, “now I’m the oldest, everyone I’ve known has died, serves me right I suppose for not”…… I thought it was raining, I looked, it wasn’t… I heard it again, turned, looked, there it was, still not raining… then without hearing it or thinking it I turned, looked, it was raining……

 

© 2018 robert greig