The old mandarin’s in fruit again. Green nuggets mostly but some are already turning.
The girl is pegging towels into the pull and slap of the Southerly. The wind has dried her hair into a russet frizz. ‘Look at me,’ she says turning her head from side to side, laughing.
Picture the street shimmering in late summer haze, how it will be on that clear winter’s day — the palm trees, the alfresco diners, the fresh-shaved poodle trembling at the door of the pet grooming place — identical.
Grey and warm all day but then around five a squall of rain caught me. Cold, I felt bereft. I remember as a kid sheltering in a barn, holding a jar with a newt we’d netted from a pond far across the tilled fields of Essex, watching through sheets of rain as evening came on.
Through its dark territory
slow as walking
rounds the shark.
Image: The Greenland shark By NOAA Okeanos Explorer Program [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. You can read more about these ancient creatures here. And because the season’s are changing, here’s Max Richter’s take on Vivaldi’s 4 seasons.
Peter Frankis writes 
Loved the sharp scenes, the threads, the poodle, the shark, and that the darkness won; once I came to the newt under glass, to me, it seemed inevitable. ☯️
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Whoa that Richter piece! It was an interstellar orchestra of aliens and their imitation of Vivaldi, letting us know they’re listening, and full of love.
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Russet frizz; splendid.
Peter, is there an Essex in Australia, or was that a British newt? >
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Oh it was definitely English rain that so bedraggled the young poet
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(big smile)
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Love the pull and the slap of wind and wet washing.
The music was wonderful. I have never encountered Max Richter, but I listened to the whole peice( a huge rarity) and it was satisfying on so many levels. Many thanks for the intro!
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