RAGGEDY CURTAIN

I’ve found a place to sit and think. There’s a nice view, and it’s far enough from the houses to be kind of secluded among the trees.

I used to do this kind of thing all the time. I wonder why I stopped. Probably though, each of us could ask the same thing about a great many things, if we sat and thought about it for a while. Irony.

There are birds singing. Robins, blackbirds, I think maybe even the squeaky wheel of the great tit somewhere. It’s nice. A propeller plane above the leaf canopy, then the thunder of a jet engine crossing the sky.

I feel teary. It is tiredness of course, but I know enough to know that it’s like a raggedy curtain revealing backstage to the audience - not the curtain’s fault. And the teariness is there behind the scenes whatever kind of curtain goes up.

I should get back home, I suppose. Sammy doesn’t like it when I’m not there, and she’s due home herself any minute. Plus, I get the feeling it might rain. There is something in the air.

The wood pigeon now. A dark grey squirrel pauses halfway down a tree trunk, freeze-framed. Then comes the bushy tail. The sky turns greeny grey as a wind picks up in the trees around me. Yeah. Time to get home, isn’t it?