Willows in the Rain

Buffeted by a bothersome breeze

Glossy curls weep


Concealing limbs




With the weight of rain

Holding up anaemic clouds

Above our riotous garden


The rain seems to have taken hold. Some people may be disappointed that the summer has turned wet but I love the smell and the coolness of rain. Bring on autumn, my favourite season. It was a shame, however, that it spoiled the Worstead Festival and the Shakespeare performance yesterday. In the end, I didn’t go to either as I wasn’t feeling up to it – too nauseous and suffering from extreme stomach pains. I couldn’t even see Much Ado from the window upstairs as the hedge on the opposite side of our road has grown so high. Thankfully, equilibrium has been restored and I will venture out this morning to collect my new glasses. It means a drive to Sprowston Park and Ride – what a godsend – and a short ride on the bus, which I love. It’s a fifteen minute window through which to observe the city of Norwich. It’s so different to our village: more and bigger buildings, different types of houses, shops, traffic and people. Some days I don’t see anyone from the moment my husband leaves for work to the moment he comes home; the only people I interact with are the characters in my own writing and in the books I read. Although I love Norwich, the curiosity and excitement of the city visit doesn’t last long. My phobia kicks in and it takes a strong nerve to survive crowds in shops and on pavements.That’s why I plan to get the bus back before lunch time.

I haven’t written any more of The Haunted Tide since Friday. It’s not a block. There are plenty of ideas working their way around my head and into my system, and I know that they will find their way out. This blog has taken over for the time being, until I get into the rhythm and it becomes a preamble to the next chapter.


3 thoughts on “Willows in the Rain

  1. We lived in West Winch, King’s Lynn for several years until made redundant, but we can’t wait to get back to the cool rain after the heat of Spain. Loved the poem. Love David


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