Memoirs of a Life Unlived

Unknowable things - wrapped up tight like Ramesses - play on your mind. Through shades this full beam sunlight, sorrel, roasts bare skin and lying on sharp grass brings just enough respite to draw out the notepad and the pen. But straggled words won’t set it right; nothing will, save the cool smooth familiar walls of your cave come blackest night, half-promising tomorrow will be simple and more yours.

The pasture rolls a little, sweet and plain, perhaps a little boring. Herding cows ignore you. You unfold the map again: that blood still cakes the mouldboard of the plough. The Brabants' fusty sweat-steam in your eyes, you squint and hear the fragile thrum of cars along the A19, that crow that flies in such a sag. A burst of sunlight mars the clearest view you had of slender smoke. You stop mid-field, removed of shade and hope.