The Miasma of Understanding

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.