In London for a few days and I see they are having an elephant parade.
This is the only one I have got close enough to photograph so far, and although bright enough in himself, he didn’t go far towards brightening the dingy turning off Oxford Street where he was located.
Continue reading “irrelephant”
And there are too many things need doing for me to write much, so I’ll settle for a picture of this rather splendid creature I found in the garden this morning.
I suppose it’s a kind of tiger moth. (I should have stuck a ruler in the picture as an indication of scale, of course, but it must have been something over an inch long.) Its impressive camouflage would have been marginally more effective if it had chosen the cream painted wall for its morning siesta.
Continue reading “time flies”
Discussing the draft of a new poem last night, I found myself close to using the phrase “but that’s the way it really happened” as justification for including an apparently inessential word.
This startled me. After all, I’ve made it clear that I don’t think of poetry as autobiographical. Life is a stepping off point for poetry, but I think facts can – and should – be sacrificed if they interfere with the poetical worth of the writing. So what made this particular occasion different?
Continue reading “the way it really happened”
At half past one this morning, I was tossing and turning, unable to sleep because of the loud birdsong outside my window.
I’m not at all good with identifying birds from their songs, but I’m pretty sure it was a nightingale singing from the cherry tree. It stopped briefly when I put the light on, but then, from what I remember – I did get some intermittent sleep – it continued all through the night until I was awake again around six. Gradually, as it got lighter, the voice was joined by others, and now it’s daylight, there is still much birdsong, but it is more scattered as they are all off about their usual business.
Continue reading “immortal bird”
My neighbours may think I should be concerned about meeting wild boar(s) in the vecinity, but not all such meetings are to be feared.
The picture is a close up (full image below) of one such beast that I came across at the Feria de Arte in Arenas de San Pedro a couple of weeks ago and that I really wish I could have taken home with me.
Continue reading “hunter of dreams”
don't confuse the narrator 