i-land-i-site

miaow in the winter of my discontent

low days huh
it’s as if
just before we wake
some guy tinkers with the tuner in our heads
leaving us - stuck on channel downtime

that was me today
all those whos whys wheres and might’ve’beens
once-familiar voices and landscapes
creeping up on me
reminding me of skin i’ll never stroke again
or
of beaches with strangely silent waves

i looked out of the window
at the hill behind the house
the wind was holding hands with the rain
triumphant
tango-tumbleweeding across the dead bracken

coffee - however black - can’t lift the blues

i got in the car
the cure of the lure of the road
the wipers tutted at me
in rubber reproach
while the spiteful mist hid the comforting waters of the loch
and
the stereo played some old acidic tunes

i gave up …………
so much for cerebral superheroes

then
back home again
i split some kindling
brought across some logs from the pile
went inside and lit the fire
looking for a little warmth

next came the clatter of the cat-flap
she strolled in - jewelled by the wild wet morning
yowed a greeting
spooked for a second at the crackling blaze
then sat like some therapeutic sphinx