Rain

rain - the first rain in weeks

bringing a feeling of freshness - maybe we'll sleep tonight

smell that earthy smell

the smell you get after the first rain following a dry spell

the sound of raindrops on thirsty hard ground

gardeners rejoice - the water-butt's refilling

hot soft road surfaces; steam

the dust washes off everything 

turning a muddy brown

gutters and gullys run

washing away all the detritus which had no reason to leave

filling the 'summer rivers' once more 

catharticly washing everything clean

freshening

reviving

and renewing

At The Beach

a little girl plays in the waves as they break on the shore

she has no words to express her excitement 

shrieking and squealing 

she chases up the beach

"look at me! look at me!" say her screams

as she runs

occasionally tumbling

pushing boundaries she plays

Mum and Dad look on and smile

perhaps remembering the simple joy

being at the beach

and playing in the sea once brought

Two older brothers play along - only making less noise.

Walking

the sound of my feet on the hard baked ground 

is almost as loud as the noise from a passing plane

hanging

as if suspended by a piece string 

high in the quiet blue sky

full with holidaymakers off to far flung lands

the distant traffic joins in with the bird song 

hear the low murmur of a far-off tractor working the land

the silent rays of the early morning sun catch the buttercups in the hedge 

golden yellow adding to the palette of greens and browns

poppies in the wheat field 

islands of red in an ocean of young verdant wheat 

silently growing

soaking up the suns rays 

slowly turning golden 

and swaying

sending waves 

rippling across the field as we walk by 

Book

I open the book 

it's a small red 

leather-bound note-pad, 

chosen,

chosen to write in.

I run my fingers over written words 

tracing each letter 

following the lines the pen inscribed

the pages she once turned

I caress the paper her hand once rested on

the lines the pen that she once held created

the words that she once chose

as if...

as if I'm trying to revive the very hand that wrote it

that she be here with me

as if to once more hold the woman who's hand it was that wrote the words...

but no...

I can only touch the page that she once touched

I can only read the words which she once wrote 

absorb the message

perhaps create a connection with her briefly once more

through her words

I remember the joy of having her near and holding her close

and want just once more

to be able to hold her 

and call her 

...Mum

Fashion Faux Pas

Shorts.

Shorts are OK - in the hot weather

mmm - cool breeze!

Long socks.

Long socks are OK - on a cold day,

mmm - toasty toes!

Sandles.

Sandles are OK - on the beach,

mmm - warm sand between your toes!

...shorts, long socks, and sandles?

At the same time?

No!!

(fashion faux-pas!)

Waiting Room

Waiting room.

Six people awaiting their turn,

three on mobile phones

three not.

I wonder what the other two not on their phones are thinking?