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Purple Seagulls

A shock of  black seagulls form a wave over this house and beneath the blue grey sky they delight my keen and hungry eye. Bones of sea bass and fragments of green don the table top, knives askew, dogs a-begging. Samphire devoured - a temporary pleasure, next month it will be no longer available and so we eat it with silent devotion, the weed of the sea doused in lemon juice sates our  August palates.

I muse on names. Honesty. Niche. Aware. Names for food. So much is eaten up by deceit that I battle with my integrity. I serve it to the table in reverence. I bow to life. I hesitate to nibble on bones of deceit. So much is left unspoken by those in control. Dare the small person to speak out and then, what, stay, remain silent to assure participation.

Brown rice never sticks. The pan comes out clean like nothing ever happened and green tea is a salve for the soul and the sky tonight is a huge meringue of whipped clouds moving before the forecast storm.

My feet are bare. I like bare feet. It is the least I can do as a human being. H tosses the dishes about in the kitchen, the racket enormous. Bones and seeds and debris gathered together and I decide that I love the sound. He moves in the kitchen, he lives, curses, fumbles and gathers the litter together and puts it into one cohesive place and for that I am grateful.

Bells chime. The seagulls blown away and they were surely not black at all, but for five seconds they were to me and so, and I will move on into another day and night and all that appears to be this moment will not be at all the same when I pause to think of it again. For all the world the seagulls might be pink and H might break the dishes on the ground and stamp out in anger and I might stand there and see something I have never seen before and then I'll see that this is life and what comes to me is what makes it all the more special. Purple seagulls - elegant swoops in an orange sky.

Comments
10 Comment count
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So true...

"...all that appears to be this moment will not be at all the same when I pause to think of it again..."

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Yes Sue - otherwise

Yes Sue - otherwise our  days might be a tad boring - I always try to swirl the colours and attempt to add more to what is proposed to be ordinary, taken for granted. m

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Poetic..

I think you danced to these words M, they certainly have a poetic rhythm in them...

have a great day out there..

Leslie
http://lesliemusoko.blogspot.com
http://lesliemusoko.ning.com

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I do tend to trip now and

I do tend to trip now and then Leslie but for the most part I aspire to a smooth tango as long as I can avoid the shards along the way-thanks for reading me! m

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Oh Mary, I have tears in my eyes

as I read this for the third time. I see it, and hear it, and my insides are trembling. I want to be there - and so I read it again. I'm refreshed; I'm curious; I'm entranced.

How I love your way with words as you pull and weave them as if they are threads of color and texture, onto a small square of daily life, even allowing some knots to be visible. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have influenced greatly how I view the ordinary bits of my day.

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Dearest Sharon, thank you

Dearest Sharon, thank you for reading my knotted words. I find it difficult to respond to your words as I feel I do not deserve them and yet I cherish them because you read what I write as I want to be read. m

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'My feet are bare. I like

'My feet are bare. I like bare feet. It is the least I can do as a human being.'
What a thought Mary!

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Bare all

Yes, our feet have to feel the rough and the smooth Jitu and the stones and the coarse ground and sometimes if we are lucky, even the diamonds...nice to see you again. Hope all is well. Mars

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Bare feet as a song to life.

My feet are bare. I like bare feet. It is the least I can do as a human being.

Good stuff, Mary. Or at least it touches me.

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Hi Ron, just caught your

Hi Ron, just caught your comment and thank you for it - for it means much to the humble one who sees the gulls in many colours. m