The sky looks like a Turner painting.
At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream
Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk;
then it dims down to a bluey gray
with a slight threat in it
like a blacker gray…It’s
Too warm today for snow.

I swept brown dried leaves from the step..
Had to move my bike.
Then I hid them under the hedge
So they can keep some insects warm in the winter.
But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,,
I’m tired or lazy after the weekend.
I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago.
Now it will be put away till next summer.
Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over…
I did wear it but it won’t look right now.

I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant.
I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing.
Are you listening to music or resting?
Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields?
I think I’ll make some tea.
I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling
  Like those late watercolors
Everything merging
Until one thing dissolves into an other.
Some people like it but today
I need some edge,some definition.
I need someone to give me boundaries.
Time 4 pm
Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap…
Wondering why she can’t get in.
I turn away.

Now the sky is without any gold
It’s fifty shades of gray.
It’s clouded dark and soft
Like your hair might have been
But I could never have touched it…
You were always too far away and moving.....

North Yorkshire

Mary was sitting at her table reading a piece in the Guardian Family section When she had finished the sad interview with a woman whose son had shot dead 5 children in a school,she tried to get up but the decorative buttons on her shoes had become entangled and her feet were tied together..

What shall I do ? she asked herself nervously.Very soon the answer came.. to slip her shoes off and then pick the linked pair up.How stupid it is,she told herself,to make crossing one’s ankles so dangerous.But with her brilliant yet anxious mind she had solved the problem and not died at her laptop.Perhaps in that case nobody would have realised  her shoes had caused her death implemented by her stupidity at not recalling she could take them off!

She went into the kitchen where Emile had knocked over the pedal bin to get a piece of chicken left over from dinner.He had also got a large ball of rough twine and knocked it round the room creating a big tangled mess.

Just wait till Stan comes back,she told the wicked cat.You know quite well the bin is out of bounds.Look at the floor!The doctor will  blame me for this mess.

How will the doctor know? asked Emile politely.

Well,it’s just he seems to be around quite a lot nowadays.I think he liked my Earl Grey Tea.Or else he is anxious about me.He thinks I am too thin…

Is he planning to hug you,asked the little black cat.

Oh,no.He can’t do that.I believe it is forbidden  by the Zippocratic Code even though my blood pressure falls if he holds my hand.

I’d have thought it might rise,mewed the naughty animal.

Now then ,Emile.I am beyond caring about men.Or women.I have no desire for desire if you understand me.

I don’t understand ,cried Emile, because cats  never lose their desire!

Well,one thing I know for sure,I am not a cat,Mary informed him .I am  human being.

Well,may I sit on your lap said the cat.

Mary sat by the window watching the trees sway against the grey mauve sky.Emile rubbed against her bosom as if expecting milk to flow.

Stop that Emile. she shouted.I am getting aroused.And you are no use to me in that way.You are getting beyond the boundary of taste.

Maybe it’s good for your circulation,the cheeky animal whispered.Anyway I am stuck.Your necklace has hooked onto my collar.

Oh,my Lord  said Mary.Don’t say you will be hanging round my neck forever.What shall we do now?

There are a few possible answers,Emile said.

1.Take off your necklace

What and leave you dragging it round the garden.I’ll have you  know it cost 15 and six,Mary said mournfully

Was that before decimalisation or is it some other mathematical model? Emile said noisily.

2.Undo my collar and take it off me then we can try to separate them.

3.We could lie on the bed and gaze into each others eyes all day,he finished.Unless you need the bathroom .I am happy

Well, charming thought that sounds I am  not willing,Mary shouted foolishly.She tore off the necklace and by some miracle it came away from the collar and freed Emile who was not totally happy at this quick release

So you are not in love with me,he yelped like a small  but jealous god.

Well,I do love you,sweetheart,But I am not expecting marriage.In any case  you would have to be transgender first and I don’t recommend it

How about trans-species ? he murmured seductively.

Even the most demanding folk in Britain have not yet requested to be made into cats,she told him half consciously.

Emile began to cry softly

Whatever’s wrong,dearest,she asked him mindfully.

I was hoping you could become a cat like me,Emile said in his Cockney accent which had picked up from the TV.

That is very sweet,dear but how would we pay the Council Tax and get books from the Library?

We would go to the old greenwood and live the life of freedom,he said.

Well,you are used to it,said Mary,but I like to think about Wittgenstein.I wonder if he’d like to be a cat if he were not dead.Would Sylvia Plath have been happier as a cat? We shall never know.But it could have helped her a great deal if Ted were just a randy tom.

Thus Mary , lounging in her red chair fell  fast asleep  in her   warm blue woolly dress with Emile on the dining table beside her eating some Wensleydale cheese she had forgotten to put away.

Mm very nice Emile mewed.I hope  the people in Wensleydale have made some more.

And so say all of us.

For it’s a jolly good seller.

So say all  of us.

A beautiful blog

Source: All Hallowed

http://www.rewireme.com/inspirations/able-create-reflections-marion-milners-able-paint/