a new year

a new blog

another statement

an observation.

the year of prophecy

the year ringing a dinging in peoples ears

in drunken end of year conversations

end of world fears riding

the coat tails of the imprisoned mind.

whispers of hopes

dreams of unity

promises a mystery.

the  end  becomes

a beginning .

*******

he comes now on his bike

went off to fix Carols pump

he said,

tick tick the hot day passes

evening approaches with a cooling imagined

he will have stories to tell.

carole sees ufos when she is out in the wee hours tending her sheep

she is a shepherd not a farmer

hasnt a clue how to start the pump.

she draws pictures of the ufos she sees

 describing the event with much flourishing of hands and sound effects

to me to john but not to everyone,

some people dont get it she says.

he collapses on the chair near me

smelling of petrol and oil and machine

exhausted hungry and pissed off

the pump wont go he says.

he grabs a beer eats the chips

I pat I hover what do I know of his day ?

she is an old friend

a most unusual person worthy of a book

a national treasure perhaps but that doesnt make it easy

to get on with her

on her backward rundown farm

where  all the sheep have names

and all the lambs are hand reared

and tails bless their backsides.