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Poem

The miasma of Understanding 

Been raining and the pale nature is green again like a new spring, but 
it is a fake spring, in end of November winter will pale all living plants in 
submission. There is o point sending poetry to anyone, till February,
 when my almond tree blossoms and strews petals about in opposition, 
thinking the winter has been occupying the stage too long.  Last winter
 snow fell and for a moment it was winter wonder land, old people said 
they had not seen snow for forty five years the river runs yellow after
 much rain on the upland and I think of a China’s main river and a rare 
dolphin no one has seen for years.  Rumours have it animal still exists.
 This morning on the track a boar stood, the wind was against it, stood 
still it sniffed the air; yeah the bloody animal is in need of good specs. 
Standoff took time restless I moved and the fattish pig disappeared into 
the undergrowth grunting as talking to itself. Often on my walk I take my 
camera with me, but animals are shy, don’t like to have their photo taken, 
except trees and thorny bushes that are  vain preening and vying for my 
attention, so in order not to offend them I take a few pictures and they 
let me pass unmolested. Retrospection:  my laziness has paid off I have 
a charmed life no one expect and I can be forgotten in peace.

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