rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

After Before, Later

Summer wears on (and on) and on a good day it brings faint reminders of being free for three months to wake having had enough sleep and having no bus to rush to and no papers rattling about in the back of my mind. There was time to examine the marvelously smooth mud lid of the trap door spider's nest with its ingenious hinge, to follow lines of ants to see where they went, to sit on a branch of a tree and watch the leaves rustle in sultry breezes, and through it all the heat seldom bothered me.

I have as much free time now but I'd rather not be outside in that midday heat. If I now want to enjoy the enervation the torrid summer sun visits upon me I can do so only in memories of what it was like to revel in its rays during that season of liberation. Those were the thoughts that crossed my mind late this afternoon as I sat on the shady porch, looking away from the glare to concentrate on the soft green undersides of the walnut tree's leaves, the deep shade they produced. In that shade is where I found those thoughts lingering, as though they'd been waiting for me all these years.

The sun set and turned the whole world to shade, and the breeze cooled under emerging stars, but the thoughts still linger as the crickets sing. Somewhere in my mind old moments are ensconced, like the trap door spider in its nest, waiting to leap out and take me by surprise. There are moments when I'd be glad to be devoured by time long past, but so far the past has never finished the job. Maybe it's just waiting for me to expand it. Tonight I'm wondering for how long. If it's as long as this cool breeze carries the cricket songs to my ears, I won't mind at all. After that, who knows?




Sunday Verse



This Be the Worst


by Adrian Mitchell

 (after hearing that some sweet innocent 
 thought that Philip Larkin must have written:
 'They tuck you up, your mum and dad')

They tuck you up, your mum and dad, 
They read you Peter Rabbit, too. 
They give you all the treats they had
And add some extra, just for you. 

They were tucked up when they were small, 
(Pink perfume, blue tobacco-smoke), 
By those whose kiss healed any fall, 
Whose laughter doubled any joke. 

Man hands on happiness to man, 
It deepens like a coastal shelf. 
So love your parents all you can
And have some cheerful kids yourself.

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