extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
What makes us suppose that only the living grieve? Now all but lost in this new and familiar world of tall, leaning-together buildings...
Friday, 7 June 2013
A Visit to the Garden Centre
Foxgloves? Shakes head
Might be over yonder...
"Over yonder" is foxglove free.
Expanding, see... waves hand freely through air.
Points to board with details
drawings like an ultra neat graffito.
Double-sizing it "The Future" reads.
Relief then... two years' time... who knows? Foxgloves on the menu?
At least they have begonias. Six trays please! mixed.
Dumper trucks (concrete
mix) mixing it with flatbed
barrows with one wheel
(manure, compost, trellises)
and supermarket trolleys (betting plants - sic -
YELLOW TEAM STRAIGHT ON.
BLUE TEAM TO THE RIGHT.
BEWARE! HEAVY PLANT EMERGING.
(maybe from the salvias?)
A hard hat abseils down from The Pavilion roof.
Lands among the roses.
Two ladies wander by (80? 90?)
Well, as you know, I'm no drinker. Not at all!
One full glass of whisky. That does me!
Later. (Looking at delphiniums)
I must have my dry sherry dear before I tackle tea!