Not rain, just a sprinkling of drops. Clouds jostle and little blue in the sky, cool wind. Roses, old-fashioned and loose-petaled fall in pale pink clouds. The fescue waves and if it speaks, it is in broken whispers.
Falling quietly (not rain)
the cloud-shoulders shudder
silently falling tears.
Time passes in small jobs, weeding, walking, watching the sky. I should be bored by the lack of excitement, novelty, but like the smoothing on of salves, the way some music untangles the cords, the stillness soothes the anxieties that trouble inner waters. The ship sails, hugging the shore maybe, not making for the open sea, but it sails easy, and the shore is beautiful too.
Cloud lifts
and the room fills with light
fills with even breathing
a harmony of rising ribs
and falling
like the last notes
of an evening song.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
This is gorgeous–the poem filled me with peace. It’s like you’re in your own little bubble or oasis (except for when the hunters are around). Sometimes we just need the everyday beauty of nature. The photo is gorgeous, too. 😊
Thank you 🙂
That’s the way I’d like it to be, but the world doesn’t go away, I still know what’s going on, and it’s only right that I should. It is peaceful though, and it helps when the rest gets too oppressive.
You’re welcome. Yes, exactly. 😊
🙂
Wow, this painting looks like a landscape by John Constable!
I know what you mean. There’s a lot of land here that’s never cultivated and what grows depends on the soil type. In this particular area the soil is lighter than the clay surrounding, dried, maybe because it drains straight into the stream. The vegetation is low and full of wild flowers. Wild, almost heathland.
Sorry, I meant this photo, not painting 🙂
Music untangles the cords – the plays the words write are fascinating.
You can do anything with words, on condition that you use them as they were intended. I get so sick of people writing utter shite and saying, it means what I want it to mean.
The peace of good companions. And music does often untangle things. (K)
It does, but there’s sadness too, because it’s an outlook that seems to be a minority one. There’s a movement out of cities to suburbs (always has been) so children can have somewhere to play, but few people want to be so far from ‘civilisation’ that nature becomes oppressive.
People moved back to cities, then the pandemic came along and they moved out again. Some would come back, but everywhere is unaffordable. Living back at home or homeless if there’s no “home” to return to.
There has been a similar movement here, but only the rich have been able to move into the city centres. With the pandemic, some have moved back out, but usually to smaller towns with the best quality of life, where they can afford the best housing. The suburbs have always been where ordinary people have gone, from small, miserable apartments. They have no hope of moving back into town, even if they wanted to.
We have very wealthy suburbs. Some of them used to be affordable for the average person, but nothing is, actually, any more. Unless they bought their house many years ago, they are priced out.
The biggest cities have wealthy suburbs, but traditionally, rich people live in the centre and have a second home in the country.
We have that too. But many wealthy people want to raise their families in the suburbs. But it has to be the “right” suburbs, full of other wealthy people.
The clan aspect is so important. Children have to mix with those who are going to useful to them later on.
Exactly.
The rest, the pause, is very necessary. Chance to gather strength.
I’d probably get used to it again, but the city makes me anxious now, and I don’t recognise familiar places any more.
I can’t bear the idea of the city.
It’s like looking at somewhere strange through the window of a train. Even the familiar places look different.
Yip.