At the end of a busy, busy hot day
I am waiting for the rain from the south
to reach my parched poppy seedlings.
|The year starts to run away from me when the peonies are over.|
There has been a rush of emails lately
out of the bleu
eager to contribute a guest post to my lovely blog, Pretty Far West,
about home furnishings or environmental concerns or whatever I like;
I am to simply let them know what suits.
One suspects their motives,
because I am so weary,
perhaps it is time to stop dishing out the stern NO
and let them at it
with their furtive links to
affordable sofa plans and
five star hotel deals
as though we were all a bit dim.
And I can sit on a stone wall in the freshly plopping rain,
looking at the lights gradually going out over on the islands
while the guest posters beaver fiendishly away.
You people wouldn't abandon me, I know:
you would comment favourably,
perhaps even gushingly,
on the affordable sofa plans
and the five star hotel deals.
The whole blog would still appear normal.