‘I’m sorry, sir but…’
‘Are you Dobson? I’m Mobbs. Inspector Mobbs.’
‘Sorry sir. Didn’t know you’d be along. They said you’d need to acclimatise…’
‘Hardly the Himalayas, Hobson.’
‘No sir. And it’s Robson.’
‘Right. What have we got?’
‘It’s… well it’s a local… that is, around here…’
‘I was told there was a body.’
Continue reading at TanGental
When the moment comes
A single tear is enough
Opening the heart
Reblogged from Strange Goings On in the Shed:
Am I being a little presumptuous calling this post “Musings from the Void”?
It feels a little like we’re ensconced in that mysterious space, a place where all happens and nothing. What’s happened since the His Nibs weighed the Heart on the Scales of Ma’at, weighed my Heart? Soon after the event I received a phishing email, a particularly unpleasant one. The contents including what may have been one of my old bank account passwords, they stated my contacts list was in their possession, etc. Essentially they were using scare tactics to blackmail and demand money. It was duly forwarded to the National Cyber Security Centre. I was advised by Fraud Action they had received numerous calls regarding the receipt of such emails, to forward them to the NCSC and ignore them, these threats were baseless. It was upsetting but also kicked my anger into play.
Continue reading at Strange Goings On in the Shed
He looked beyond the horizon
wondering about life’s numerous possibilities.
Reblogged from Transition of Thoughts
It had always confounded him, the causeway stretched out before him standing proud leading out to sea and yet going nowhere. Just like him going nowhere.
Alone he stands on the beach
He’s come this far from all he has known
All goals and hopes smashed and out of reach
Continue reading at willowdot21
*
“…Those who waited with her, high on the hill had prepared her.
She had been bathed in the sacred spring that ran from the chalk below this place, winding as a clear stream into the valley.
There was a shallow pool beneath the trees.
She could not see it in the half light, but she knew its course, and felt for it in her mind and body.
She had not eaten, only drunk of herbs steeped in its water for three days.
She was marked with ochre and dressed in a clean robe.
She heard them stand to greet the sun, but did not turn to the east with them.
She watched them through other senses, familiar with the rite, seeking to feel herself within the land and sky.
She saw her shadow on the grass as the sun rose, gilding the mists.
It was time…
Continue reading at France and Vincent
In the days of old they’d walk out on the water at high tide, appearing to float atop the waves.
It was a sign of trust.
Also of recognition. For they’d come from the water, after all. Their bodies might have forgotten how to live in it, but their cousins — seals, dolphins, whales — still held links to what was possible. And they spoke of long swims and deep dives and frolicking, and of how one day they’d all come home again.
And so they hoped.
And let themselves be carried by tentative feet on mossy rocks built far in and well past the breakers, all the way to the beginnings of the depths.
Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda
My two-legs really worries me
When she starts with the cleaning,
She climbs on things that wobble
when she’s stretching out and leaning.
She scrubs and talks of ‘elbow-grease’
And squirts stuff that’s all squeezy
That makes things smell all flowery…
And makes a Small Dog sneezy!
The thing is, she has accidents
With everything she touches
(I hid my fav’rite ball away
To keep it from her clutches…).
I think maybe she’s lost the plot…
Or stepped outside her rhythm…
She took the curtains down to wash,
The curtain rail came with ‘em.
She trimmed the lawn to make it neat
And cut the long grass lower…
And said some words I should not hear
When she blew up the mower!
Continue reading at The Small Dog’s Blog
The rivers receded, leaving behind banks like parched lips. Leaving nothing but dust to nourish the crops.
Bucket by bucket they tried to stay alive.
A large stone surfaced.
Once the algae covering it dried under the unending sun, and fell away, a dire warning, chiselled across the stone’s face, appeared.
Continue reading at A Bunch of Dumb Words in a Row
Summer’s rich promise
Sleeps beneath the counterpane
Misty green morning
*
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 