If it's free, I'll have it.

"Let me help you up, Senor" he said

as I sprawled on the stucco pavement where I'd tripped.

"Obrigado" I replied once standing.

Then "Shit, I've broken my sandal. Bugger"  "Que?"

I limped back to the dorm with the broken flip-flop

and threw them both in the bin. "What use is one?"

I couldn't bear to buy another pair

and managed the rest of the trip with plimsolls.

"What on earth do you want that for?" she'd said.

"Well, it might have a use. You never know"

"Oh, leave it be! You're such a miserly hoarder"

(She didn't mince her words, my long dead wife.)

Back in UK while looking in my shoe drawer

I noticed the single fllip-flop that she'd seen me

pick up from the pavement years before.

And it would have been the right replacement.

Dating ?

Regular visitors to my garden

when the sun shines between the showers,

a pair of wood pigeons forage together

searching for food among the flowers.

It makes me wonder what's their connection.

Just the two of them, never with others.

Possibly an old married couple?

Or family bonded, sisters, brothers?

Or perhaps the start of a new relation?

As so often seen together lends

credence to speculation whether

it's a new romance or just good friends.

Though sexes attract

the contact is fraught;

the act is the fact

but the thrill is the thought,

TWEETS 14

Sad but true.

Personality and character do not infatuate.

Looks do.

Not rocking robin but hopping robin !

Always on the lookout for grub,

concentrating, arms akimbo,

jumping two footed from tub to tub.

Snow in May there lying on the ground ?

No, just apple blossom fallen thick around.

Earth's ills

-------------

The problem is not just pollution,

and climate change; it's population.

HOSPICE

I keep waking up.

God! When will it stop?

Enjoyment accompanies events;

satisfaction lingers longer.

It's much like dermatitis hatching,

the masochistic pain of itching,

the knowingly harmful joy of scratching -

young women in the disco - leching !

If, like the Chinese, we had an almanac,

this year would be The Year Of The Slug.

The long delayed springtime explosion

bursting a universe of leaves

clouds the sky with constellations

which the summer solar breeze

automatically weaves

into the swirling textures of trees.

Modern gardening

Not long ago the tools of the trade

were trowel, hoe, fork and spade.

But now, as if by TV law,

it's hammer and nails, drill and saw.

A disappointing evening

The singer climbed on top of the amps;

the male bass guitarist wore a dress.

Such circus antics more than hint

their music won't impress.