Saturday, 13 July 2013

Ebb And Flow

A jackdaw dropped twigs down a cold chimney. They fell into the grate with a scratching sound. Bits of soot came down too. The bits of twigs lay on balls of screwed up computer paper and unpaid bills. Next came the sound of pigeons cooing. But this sound came through the window that had been left open despite the chill and gloom. Another sound was a track from LA Woman; the one that starts off with The cars hiss by my window like the waves down on the beach.

He lay on the bed. Listening to these sounds. The ebb and flow of an English winter afternoon mixed with American rock and roll. Summer music on a winter's day. More twigs fell. Bits of soot soon followed to make a pattering sound on the white paper. The unpaid telephone bill. The aborted poems.

Somewhere, in that cluster of crumpled paper, now gathering bits of twigs, collecting small explosions of soot, you'll find the line there is a peace that lives under the ebb and flow.

He took a deep breath of the winter afternoon.

The door started to slowly open.

It creaked on its hinges.

2 comments:

  1. This is the same person as the one who experiences the sofa.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You're right! I need to try and get his name.

    Hope you had a great weekend Susan, and thank you - as ever - for your thoughtful comments.

    ReplyDelete

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