Yesterday I said I didn’t really know what to post, so made do with some old photos.
I’m not doing much better for inspiration today, but even if I still don’t have much idea about what to post, I do have a picture of a post box.
It’s a typical old pillar box – I think it’s Victorian – and the modern red brick houses in the background don’t exactly set it off very well.
Fortunately I didn’t need to go far to find another one with a better backdrop, and with a traditional red phone box alongside as well:
And now I have a letter box and a phone box, I think I can just about justify posting this old poem, which has a tenuous connection to communications:
Pylons straddle the horizon, loop
the skeins of dreams
from town to town.
She calls long distance
to an empty house,
talks to air and leaves
her words hung on the wire.
Later, she watches birds
s c a tt e
r re group
Tiny talons grasp ungrounded hopes
and give them wings.