big wheel keeps on turning (5/April/18)

… yesterday…

the big wheel turned against and despite of the weather-worn weather weathering  and rendering the mountains into cloud a sky so heavy as to scrape my scalp against… it stops, one person boards, around it goes again, one car with one person soon be sitting on top of the world, or at least obscured by clouds against the grey refrain of the day… rain falls with a quiet persistence, sometimes more so sometimes less so but always so… the big wheel turns regardless, one person in one car…… people eating ice cream under awnings watching winter in spring and arms reach away… precipitation quietly persists…… a castle looking quite at home, its dour, stone-carved audacity looking so clumsy on a sunny day seems to fit right in now, amidst the cavernous grey from which  the rain, the rain, the rain remains restrained, for now… from its walls the big wheel turns, one person in one car… such unforgiving walls, something for a rainy day perhaps… perfect…… the walls steal away the present supplanting the dregs from another time that lingers on the lips of ghosts, waiting, waiting, waiting to be spoken…… cold, dank, desperate, dark, its miserable persona coming into its own, attractive, alluring, enticing… an air of detached inevitability… gulls guard the walls… what do they remember, know?… passed down through generations, gull-lore… they keep telling us but we don’t listen, “surely they’re just laughing at us”, we say… well, would you blame them… the moat retains a multitude of sins, denying the eye access, lacklustre in reflections… and the big wheel keeps on turning, one person in one car, round and around… a gull-eyes view…… gull-envy…… determined souls determined to endure/ enjoy their holiday, their travel/ travails… all this way for… this?…… worry not, tomorrow will be spring again, that’s the way we roll around here, round and around on the big wheel turning, one person in one car… … … …

© 2018 robert greig

mantranomics (3/April /18)

really it just rained, really… all day pretty much, I don’t think it stopped from starting the night before under the cover of dark, out of sight but very much in your ear, then all day incessantly, in perpetual motion lubricating the air… is it any wonder why we are said to be obsessed with the weather here, being there so much of it, chopping and changing with the kind of whimsy that would make even the whimsiest whim blush… it’s possible one could say it did stop for maybe an hour’ish, although, did it really?… I don’t know why I’m asking you, you weren’t/ aren’t even here… I’m sure there was still the odd rogue droplet determine to keep the rain-faith going until, there it was again, and actually still is even now, another day later… really a manky, damp squib of a day…

roads swilled with more puddles than you could splash in wearing wellies, jumping up and down with all your mighty jumping skills… I know because I went out in it… briefly… but apart from that I spent the day staring at rain, watching it, listening to it drift and drone and dance, clouds conjuring an inexhaustible supply of the soggy stuff, its aqueous, hydrous soundtrack mantranomically mumming…

I did some writing, stared at rain, did some reading, stared at rain, drank coffee, stared at rain, drank tea, stared at rain, had a bath, listened to rain, cooked dinner, stared at rain…

I’d like to say there was more to today than there was but… there wasn’t… still, it’s purple-sprouting broccoli time, clearly lovin’ the rain…… aren’t baths brilliant places to ponder, I pondered a lot in the bath today and guess what, some of it made sense!… I know!… who’d’ve thought…

the forsythia’s flowering, no leaves yet, that’s how they roll, it’s yellow looking quite coquettish against the grey cloud and drizzle… the cherries are budding and as such the bullfinches are back… my long-standing Berberis has been hammered by the frosts and particularly the beast from the east Siberian shock-horror wind we had, looking decidedly browned-off where it should be green, but it’ll recover, I’m sure… the lavender’s have put out a few flowers though, brave souls……

anyway, it rained, it still is…

© 2018 robert greig

listening to weather (23/March/18)

I’m listening to weather
and wondering
it takes a lot of concentration
requires focus… but… no too much…
too much and it’s easy to lose it
lose the tune, the melody, the weathers song
it’s true Prog… Primal Prog perhaps if you want a sub-category, or Prog Primal as compared to Prog Metal or Prog Rock or Prog Folk or even Psych Prog… ‘tis the original Prog of Ages… you can listen to it, hear it, imbibe it’s flavours, quench on its timbre….
it’s maximum minimalism… and yet…
just when you think you’ve found a pattern… gone… in the next breath… so I’m listening to weather, one of my favourite past-times and wondering…
wondering…
wondering, has the Internet (i.e. social media) made people stupid or have stupid people always been there and the Internet’s ((i.e. social media)  released them into the wild?…
please don’t address your answers to notme @ nowhereinparticular,
it’ll disrupt my weather-listening
… … …
I’m listening to weather, don’t you know…

© 2018 robert greig