No.6 A rose has died.

A rose has died.
I didn't know this rose.
It wasn't mine.
I have no reason to think it was my rose but
I did think it was mine for an instant
a very long time ago.
This rose had become old and sick.
Diseases took over the leaves,
travelled down stems
and killed the roots.
No-one told me the rose that was not mine had died.
Now I know,
and, unexpectedly, I grieve.

No 5  Misrabule: 26th Feb 2016

I shouldn't be but I am.
The sun is shining, the snow is melting, the sky is blue
even the wind isn't biting.
The chickens have had afternoon snackettes,
everyone is dozing.
The black cat in his little house,
Stewart on the Prayer shawl,
Georgie in the sunshine,
Molly the dog upside-down on the sofa,
Me?
I am wide awake and  misrabule....
just say it slowly out loud
to feel the word's misery.....

I have a cold.
I should be somewhere else, being useful, and tonight
I should be out dining with friends.
My beloved will be home soon and it's the weekend.
I'm wide awake
and I ain't goin' nowhere
except under a duvet to be misrabule by myself.

I've tried reading,
I've tried watching too much TV
I've tried chicken soup,
I've tried taking those cold and flu tablets that knocked me out last time.
I've tried giving myself a good talking to.
I've given up trying to sleep.
Nothing!

I have a cold.
I will probably survive it.
I will be misrabule until I do.

No4  Crocks.

What a useful word.
With or without the K.

Rejuvenation shoes on tired old feet;
broken bits for plant drainage;
kitchen paraphernalia;
fearsome toothy smiled reptiles;
and above all:
the Old Crocks.
You with your fasciculating back and
me with neck,shoulder and knee spasms.

No 3  It rained today.


Not normal rain,
not pitter-pattering gently against the window,
running down in streaks.
No.
This was a hard rain,
a freezing rain,
hurling against the glass door
with the force of a cold west wind
travelling over the prairies.
A thousand miles it has swirled
and now carrying the ice rain
it batters my door.

For a moment it becomes
normal rain.
Rain I remember from sixty years ago
comfortingly padding the windows
running down in runnels
washing the glass.

Here it helps wash the snow clean

A little melt in the winter gloom
lifts the spirits.
A little dirty wet brown grass
under the feet reminds us
Spring will come.

No 2

Prevaricating.
Shall I stay here or go out to lunch?
Shall I make that phone call I should have made last week?
Shall I do the paperwork that needs to be done by last October?
Shall I write my blog?
Shall I just do nothing?
What about the bathrooms and the floors and the bills?
Is it time to feed the birds to feed the chickens?
Is it time to sleep like the cats?
I have to do things but how do I get to them?
Is this age?
What can I blame it on then?
Lets try the weather!

No 1 Winter

No pics today, just free form poetry flowing from
the warm study in my brain,
to the cold,icy cold,
cold beyond cold snow bound beauty
of the fields outside my window.

Trees stand frigid, scared to move in the wind that cracks everything cold,
chickens gobble round the warm water heater in the shed,
remembering outside green and summer songs
of preening feathers
and eggs dropping silently into warm nests of warm deliciousness.

The pelargoniums in their winter pots
in the cool of the growing room
think of pretty pink and red and white and flowers
and dark hearted crimped leaves
and room to grow and reach for the sun

Our beloved Molly rolls in the snow
remembering snow does not last for ever
and must be rolled in as much as possible
and as often as possible,
telling the snow it is loved.

The Prairie Chickens
fly, defying gravity,
with their big feathers covering small bodies.
They run down the snow banks creating mini trails
for mini cross county skiers,
running to and fro picking
the corn and sunflower seeds the blue jays have left
for the sparrows.

My beloved calls and breaks the spell.
Enough for today.