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

rain-rain (28/July/18)

it’s actually a relief… rain… proper rain… not half-hearted apologetic rain but what I could call, bringing to bear all the technical jargon at my disposal, rain-rain… the landscape looks grateful, sighing through the remaining leaves that’ve managed to see it through the previous lack… lest we forget the value of water in favour of blue skies and bikini lines… no doubt some will gripe and moan with the “so that was summer then” as though it was gone in a blink, an awfully long blink if that was the case… what do you call a long blink?… sleep, I suppose… what do you call a longer blink?… death… maybe that’s what I’ll have on my headstone, not dead ‘just blinking’… or half a blink anyway, that’s the thing about blinking, one has to remember the second half of it, the unblink…… I know not everyone wants rain, but then again not everyone engages their brain enough to see the point… oh, to be clueless…… and soulless… do you ever meet people to just come across as just that?… not clueless, there are plenty of those milling about, no, soulless… people who seem to have nothing there, nothing going on, more vacant than stone, who blow through life oblivious to anything outside their own skin… for reasons peculiar I know them as soon as I meet them, first impressions and all, which to me, despite popular opinion, are not just important but inevitable, and on meeting someone anew I just know…. I have no idea how or even why, if it’s a feeling, a smell, electricity, something they say, their eyes, it’s impossible to quantify never mind bottle it and sell it online to the ever-expanding hoards of the gullible…… are people getting more gullible these days?… hard to say as any opinion I have would be loaded in bias anyway, but I do wonder…… the sound of the trees, hedges, grass heads, it slips between words and nestles in the pauses teasing the gaps between letters and indulging in abandon at the end of a sentence when they know it’s their cue to boast and brag and don their finest swishes and swooshes indulging their Aeolian catwalk… it’s the sound of between, the sound of space, that’s why it never stays still…

© 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