Poetry in notions
I remember when I was young reading about two brothers, hoarders, who filled their house with newspapers, traversed by tunnels, which one day collapsed and killed them. In old age our minds are filled with the hoarded memories of a lifetime, ready to crush our spirit with their weight as we tunnel through.
At my age every day of the year is an anniversary of something or other, but mostly I no longer remember of what. Just as well, in many cases, sad loss in others, but I don’t get to decide which will come back to me with the sound of wind in the chimney, the taste … Continue reading Remembrance of…
A windy day blows birds into the garden to swoop, glide and play, then blows them out again.
Let me get this straight, some people think that telling their baby that while they are asleep their cradle will crash to the ground when a bough breaks is a way of getting them to sleep?