Hush and Patter

The days have been sweltering lately. In the silence of night. I strain my ears.

Most days, the chirping, croaking, laughing sneaks over the wall.

Some days, the wind’s whistle whispers over the fence and its digits walk on the window panes.

Then the rain silently falls.

Being That

So I go to this place. I like the service. I particularly like who I think I am while there.

For fifteen to twenty five minutes, in that space, I imagine many things. Have many a thought. Step away from the rails.

Down two flights and on the pavement, change stays the same. What was magical twelve feet away is now worn. The glaze of context is gone.

I look away.

In the Fog

It’s like my mind is buffering.

It’s like another mind is pushing the buttons.

It’s remembering all I have forgotten to remember at the worst possible moment.

I leap out of naps. I leap out of dreams. I must have fallen out with reality!

Another nap should fix this.


From quite the absence. Cobwebbed idea room, dusty writing space and overcast ceiling.

To the blank page. To sail the sea of white with the compass of imagination.

Many days late, not a day too soon.


…in the distance.

After hours of sticky heat and a morning of hill covering mist.

I heard thunder. I listened for rain. The air grew cool. The night became silent.

The heat returned.

A Bird Situation

You can almost hear the rush of air before the splatter hits your ears. You can see metallic paint with white streaks, walls with white and green splotches.

Once in a while, you can even see a group of friends furiously wipe down the uniform of one of their own.

On the side of the road. With white splotches on the tarmac beneath them.

Looking through Windows

A short film came to mind recently. Two couples: one thought they were watching who they used to be, the other was watching who they wanted to be.

The driver in the sun hat and shades hopping out of a three door. The relaxed driver turning a knob while at the wheel of the grey Range Rover.

The couple pressing on the doors. She with a distracted stare. He with a wry smile. The passenger smiling at their smart phone in the upholstered seat.

The man pushing the SLK into a petrol station.

The passengers in the passing car. The one who chortled, the one who stared and the one who acted like the road ahead would split open.