Sky 2 Sky

While a friend of mine was in New York tonight, I was taking my son to his football training.

He might have got the skyscrapers

but we got the sky

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Musings At A Bus Stop

Shelter. That’s maybe all man has ever wanted. Shelter; warmth; food.

I’m huddled beneath a bus stop in what I regard the centre of my town. It’s not the town centre, so to speak, maybe not even the exact geographical centre, but historically, and spiritually, I think it’s the centre.

And even spiritual centres have bus stops.

A heavy rain has swept in from the coast, tail-end of a hurricane, no less, and I’m here, having emerged from the warmth of the library, watching a river of litter and leaves pass by on their mission to clog the drains.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that I’m waiting for a bus. I’m stood at a bus stop, after all. But no, I’m waiting for my wife to pick me up, this was just the nearest spot to stand out of the rain. I hope a bus doesn’t arrive, that would be awkward.

Have you ever seen children in a supermarket? Young children, I mean. If there is one walking down the aisle, say with his or her Mum, and another child turns into the aisle, they stand there checking each other out. A bit like dogs do. Without the sniffing, of course. Neither smiling nor speaking, they just stand there, sizing each other up.

I’m not sure why I’m thinking about this now, it’s not like I’ve even been to the supermarket, but anyhow, here’s my wife, pulling up, windscreen wipers going ten to the dozen.

Long Time Ago And We’re Still Fab

I apologise for paraphrasing the George Harrison song in the title of this post, but fifty years after it first topped the charts, The Beatles’ Abbey Road has returned to number one. In doing so, it set a record – the gap of 49 years and 252 days since its initial chart-topping run ended in early 1970 is the longest gap before returning to number one. It was the last album the group ever recorded.

As McCartney put: “It’s hard to believe that Abbey Road still holds up after all these years. But then again it’s a bloody cool album.”

Can’t argue with that.

Dead Bird

from my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Dead Bird

The kids are fascinated by the varying states of putrefaction.
Every morning we pause, compare it to yesterday's
studied image.
"Where have it's eyes gone? Have they sunk into its skull?"

Half-covered by an overnight shroud of autumn leaves,
provoking a conflict of opinion.
The girl thinks it should be buried out of decency,
the boy eager to glimpse its surfacing skeleton.

Every day its stomach is drawn in, the ribs rising.
Then this morning, stunned: the bird is gone,
perhaps removed by a conscientious council worker.
The boy thinks that it's been dragged off to be devoured
by a fox, or a cat, but whatever it was
it must have been really down on its luck,
falling on that desiccated morsel
for a feast.



©AndrewJamesMurray

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