Friday, May 20, 2005

Blowing, quiet and beat.

1. The wind has changed and instead of cutting straight through you, it's warm and gusty. A puff of dead leaves and fallen flowers - about a dustpanful - is skittering up the pavement ahead of me, weaving and snaking round as if it were alive.

2. Sitting in silence at dusk. Far away, a peacock yelled. They seem so prideful and foolish close up, but from a long way off, they are so mournful that you wonder if they really are as stupid as all that.

3. We sat round a fire and drummed as it got dark. You could listen for a bit to what everyone else was doing and pick up whatever part of the rhythm you fancied.

Slow worm, peacock butterfly and striations.

1. A slow worm backs into his burrow, his mild resentful gaze holding ours. 2. Peacock butterfly -- Persian rug colours -- rests open in the...