pinball (25/April/18)

light falls aching from the heart of the sun
bleeding, feeding
space is open for business, in-filled,
filling in the blanks and gaps, oozing it clogs the arteries, almost,
wrapping holes in tangible veils, trails
of streamers, streams of trailers, traffic jams,
no room for errors, no country for old men, random
nests scattered orderly in canopies
to the left of me
the right of me
stuck in the middle, tolerate thy neighbour a branch away
branching out it sways disconcertedly in solar winds,
solar sails, solar plexus puffed up in mock display
chlorophyll fingers of yellow and green, green to gold, brown
to dead for everything a season, reason, rhythm
and rhyme, rock ‘n’ roll long-lived aging bark as
night falls aching from the heart of the moon
and all too soon it’s all over now baby blue when
it had only just begun
and it’s not even June
wane, wane, done and dusted, ash to ash, hand to mouth
time stubs its cold remains out on a convenient arm, a scar
regarded as a spoil of war, a brag, a boast, a toast, boiled
in oil a sky pours down like mercury another century and
we’ll be born Methuselahs, sensory overload infiltration, bloated
deprivation, expectations dashed, a pinch of salt
over the shoulder
off the shoulder
off the cuff
over the cuckoo’s nest
ends are lurking in beginnings, loaded guns, unexploded bombs,
day falls louder than the ear can ever hear,
that deaf, dumb and blind kid sure played
a mean pinball.

© 2018 robert greig

battery bats (22/April/18)

my garden’s a battery… full of bats… wheeling and dealing the final blows to moths and craneflies, midges and storm flies… ah yes, storm flies, so-called as they herald and are omens of impending storm, or rain at least… should be called muggy flies for they only ever seem to emerge when the air grows decidedly uncomfortably sticky muggy… how do bats manage not to crash into branches and walls and all the other static and solid obstacles peppering their hunting grounds, like my garden… if I was a bat I’d be a hopeless one, inevitably colliding with trees and comically sliding down the bark wearing a halo of even tinier bats spinning around my dazed batty head… not to mention I don’t particular like moths, to eat that is, I’ve nothing on a personal level against them, after all they have some of the bets names in the natural world but as appetisers not so much…… I once found, or rescued, a long-eared bat from a demolished outbuilding, it had been sleeping, roosting, hibernating more like behind a rotten wooden baton, snug as a bug in a rug… or a bat in a baton… It was still early March, not exactly normal flying time for bats unless it’s a particularly early spring which that years wasn’t… still at least half-asleep, the bat that is, I found a shoe box, filled it with newspaper and shreddings, placed it in another shed nearby with plenty of exit points high up safe from any possibly predators… for two weeks I kept an eye on it and all the while it seemed to sleep, or hibernate, or could well have been half-dead for all I knew, being it was barely breathing… although that’s normal for hibernation… after two weeks I was almost giving up when it finally shivered itself awake and eventually, phew, took flight on a night that was just about bat-flying temperatures… and it was gone to bat another day, and night, and hopefully many more after that.

© 2018 robert greig

wind of change (17/April/18)

I found a five pence piece on the ground… again, as regular readers of my blog will know I seem to regularly find lost and discarded money, never much though, only ever change, loose change, either singly or several like the other week finding 25 pence in five shiny, silver five pence pieces…… later I found 41 pence, a mix of coins, which meant today I had stumbled on a total of 46 pence!… if this carried on I could be in the hundreds of pounds by the end of day, or tens at least… it didn’t, I wasn’t… I know with the smaller denomination coins some people actually have a habit of deliberately throwing them away… imagine, throwing money away, although some people do it every day eating at one of the various generic McTuckyWay fast food (and I generously use the term loosely by calling it ‘food’) outlets… 41 pence stands at my biggest haul in a single find, apart from when I’ve found one pound coins, often left in shopping trolleys where they’d been used as deposit… well, it’s not as if I can return them to their owners who would’ve been long gone by then…… I’ve actually watched some walk past this discarded money, why?… I never do… either they are so unobservant they don’t see it (quite likely as a LOT seem to be), or think it’s like food dropped on the ground and they might catch something (“you don’t know where it’s been!”), or perhaps they’re embarrassed to be seen scrabbling on the ground to pick up what may be as little as a penny (I am not so proud)… or they think it’s some kind of elaborate prank like maybe it’s glued to the ground and people are watching sniggering at whoever tries to prise it off the ground…… which I have to say has never happened to me and is largely a myth…. talking of change…
… the wind is back with a vengeance, being uproariously and unapologetically ferocious all night, I’ve barely slept with the clattering and banging and worrying  when the next crash form the darkness is coming from as yet something else gets trashed…. discovered this morning the gusts had been strong enough to rip a cast iron sundial off its equally cast iron podium and throw is six feet…… just when you thought it was safe to go forth into spring along comes winds that autumn would be proud of…. but this is spring, don’t you remember, it’s as variable as every other season, more so now with climate change so get used to it… anyway, I’m 46 pence up on yesterday, yay me…..

© 2018 robert greig