Monday January 17, 2005

Not much of a day. Largely hostile weather. No events of any note. Just a make-weight day, keeping my place on the hopefully straight line I trace from here to… somewhere.

I did manage to bring a new poem to completion, and found a picture to go with it. That’ll have to do it for today.


In a garden along the lane
an old woman fought
a complex battle
with a reluctant tea towel
and a rising gale.
Three clothes pins, some cursing
and much relentless determination
were needed to fix it, flapping,
to the line but she succeeded
and stepped back, triumphant,
just as a twist of wind, vengeful,
lifted her skirt to show her bloomers.
John Bailey   Lincolnshire, January 2005


Somerset, Nov,'99



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