When in my clothes I find unique  moth holes

And have no matching wool which I can use

To darn them  all becomes my only goal

And  then my little mind becomes confused.

To simplify my life, I’ll wear but blue

And toss all other hues into the bin.

Does this seem the wisest way to you?

Or might it be an error or a sin?

Excessive contemplation of one’s acts

Can produce  a hint  of agony in the mind.

And so I’ll numb my brain with wax

Then  my tension will at last unwind.

Ignore all moth holes and peculiar stains

For dwelling on these matters harms the brain

However if you find an acrid smell

Toss all your clothes into the nearest well

For what is a metaphor selected?

To convey truth without being detected?

My love is reality

And exacting theology.

So my mind has been password protected.

I know not who holds the key.

Unfortunately  it is not known to  me.

So my mind works alone,

Cut off from my own

Heart,in its  quiet mystery.

No metaphors allowed in maths exams

It looks like a story.it feels like a story… it’s a parable.

A parable like Jesus often  used is a traditional Jewish way of teaching.

The seed that fell on barren ground’ the way Jesus explained what he wanted for his followers .. to be fishers of men/

In  many situations we can only explain one thing by comparison with what we know

Table and chair  “legs”

That’s no man, he’s the son of a bitch

You get my “Drift”….am I a cloud or a wave?

When we are sick ,how  we long for the mundane

To eat with our friends  once again;

To walk under trees,

See blossom and bees,

Or ice on the old window panes .

Remember those patterns of frost?

Are the glories of childhood   quite lost?

Boots crack frozen  puddles ;

Get warm  now with a cuddle.

The mundane is still here at no cost.

The smile of a familiar friend

The Xmas cards yearly sent

Waking  slowly in  bed;

Making love in the shed.

A slight change to the mundane  and life mends.

Move  furniture into new places

Sit  nearer your love  for embraces

Or where you can see those old trees

Which all eyes do please.

Above all,avoid winter stasis.

The word mundane reminds me of what I was talking about with a friend some years back.She had been on holiday in Cornwall and was moaning about how awful it was to come back here.I tried to say that one must enjoy a place for what  it has,not grumble because it’s not on the coast with beautiful scenery.The borough we live in has the highest number of trees of any borough in the city.So that is its beauty.However I don’t think she was listening.I also used to say,A holiday is a state of mind.Owing to my husband’s health we’d not been away for 13 years and to me just sitting in the garden was beautiful