Good afternoon, I’m fine.
Thank you for asking.
I should be working,
marking scripts, writing up research
but the sun is shining
through grey-white clouds
and the breeze is moving
my vertical blinds
creating an illusion of a summer’s day
It rained this morning,
hard, as it has each morning
for the last week. I woke to
lightning even, on Sunday.
Typical English summer
experienced only in glimpses
of what others have in
consistent abundance.
And yet, there is something
wonderful about listening to
songbirds, the rustling of leaves,
looking out of my office window
with views of the cathedral,
the abbey gardens, the roof
of the prefabs which hosted
seagull porn not so long ago,
(I had to avert my eyes feeling
strangely intrusive after the
novelty wore off) that curiously
British pastime of second-guessing
the next rain, the promise of
a clear day.
I’m rarely bored.
How about you?
