covering the plainess

i give them cardigans with buttons
and sometimes dots

i looked out yesterday at the rain
on and off all day

think i heard a night jar

up the valley here.

it was a quiet night except

for that.

we have the window open now.

last time this way there  was blood

dripping

fortunately

there was a handkerchief to staunch it

this morning it felt quite like autumn

their house was

down by the stream that
ran the side of the road

nice little house.

who knows what goes on there.

single house
little house
with
pale pink

the village remembered

there were blue skies

we went by bus

it is a complex thing
to work out the best

thing to do
way to be

sometimes is best to do nothing
wait and see
let it be

some mornings the air feels clearer
than others

across the village  a dove turtles  and coos
while lorries pass on the bridge

days left,

three voices

rise, until just one is heard

there is always something
which is often nothing

to worry about

stressing over imagined happenings
which don’t  occur

she came worried about monkey pox
so made her ordinary  tea

the next day I travelled  up
walked the streets and saw

the stories there
for a change

the voices rise

the summer house is gone

destroyed some years back now due to health and safety fears from the new owner

who was opening the house back up for holidays

i suggested that i could relocate it

yet they burned it, the pretty thing with all the imagined memories

i have a modern one gone faded now

then i wonder if she wanted to see my brother instead