Two Little Dickie Birds
What beautiful colours the end of the day brings us. A display so hypnotic even the careless pink wave of a worms arse below us is noted but ignored. Dessert sinks carelessly between the blades of grass and back down into the cool rich earth to rest. I glance over at Paul who examines the burnt orange horizon as if to doubt that the sun should sink and the day should end. I kick some salt from the top of this crusty brick wall to break the spell.
Paul doesn’t break form. Instead he lets out a small sigh and closes his eyes for slightly more than a second “ I can’t sing today”. With a tilt of the head his line of sight once again focuses upon the horizon.
“Why?” I respond, slightly confused at Paul’s logic.
“We sing every morning and every evening. Why not today?”
“Something’s changed today, it just doesn’t feel the same” sighed Paul.
“But... but.. it’s all still here!” I throw out one wing as if to introduce the idyllic landscape set before us, a landscape that up until now Paul has admired and absorbed and provided ambience to on many a spring evening”
“What do you mean it’s all still here?” Paul finally turns to face me.
“It’s all here Paul. The sun rose this morning just as it’s sinking back down now. None of the things that made you happy yesterday have gone, they’re all here, they’re all still here. It’s just sometimes they’re harder to see”.... “so you shouldn’t worry and you shouldn’t be sad. It’s all still here. Please don’t be sad”.
“Thank you” Paul shook his head “ I’m sorry for letting you down today, maybe it’ll come back tomorrow”.
“I hope so. I enjoy singing but it’s far more enjoyable to sing together”.
“I’m going now, you coming?”
“No” replied Paul, I’m going to sit it out until the end today.. I’ll see you in the morning”.
“Things always look better in the morning”. I attempt a parting expression which sits somewhere between cheerful, concerned and sympathetic. My lack of facial muscles fail in communicating this effectively. Paul nods and turns back towards the last slither of gold disappearing over the distant hills.
“Comeback Paul” I whisper before jumping up into the sky and sailing into the evening.
This poem was developed from an idea I sketched down while visiting my brother in Plymouth. I hope it expresses the fact that, the older we get, the more we see what is important in life and the more are able to do away with petty, insignificant worries... such as the embarrassment of wearing the same jacket as our partner..
The Huskey People
I wrote the Huskey People as a Christmas Present for my mum years ago. I have no idea what inspired it.. It's probally best not to look too far into some things. I've in included a mixed media (up to date) sketch I completed a few days ago of a Huskey person.. minus sock..