The most that can be said of the recent weather is that it has been very English. Glorious sunshine and torrential rain.
Yesterday’s mix of seasons brought a stunning double rainbow over the back garden. The photo shows only one of the bows and doesn’t do that justice, I’m afraid.
A couple of days earlier, I was sitting in the sunshine waiting for a friend and leafing back through the little notebook I always carry with me.
I was shocked to realise that it’s still not even half full although I started it over a year ago. Mostly, it seems to contain unnecessary phone numbers and email addresses, but I did find a few scraps and ideas for poems and other writing that I ought to return to.
This draft still needs a lot of worrying at, I think, but the mention of the rainbow screensaver is a tenuous connection that gives me an excuse to post it now. I gather from the title that it must originally have been written in winter.
In the morning half-light, I find you
asleep at your desk. The screensaver
is a rainbow octopus that multiplies itself
in every polished surface. Through the window
it weaves along the neighbour’s fence then pauses,
pulsing, blossom pink, where the peach tree
used to be.