Editorial

Contents 23 Aug 2012

Snake eggs: Joselyn D Morton

Summer photos: Roger Morton

Stephen O’R’s Ch Ch, NZ

Cover: Roger Morton

After longing for the sun, the golden ball has outdone itself and we have had many days of 36, 37 degrees. Temperatures so high, that I have had to cower inside for fear of being burnt to a cinder. Alas my thoughts seem to have evaporated in the heat and I can think of nothing meaningful, original or vaguely provoking to say.

I am very sorry that since Mary Kalemkerian left BBC Radio4 Extra, they have now changed their dictum and there is no longer a chatty, newsletter from there each Friday.

I enjoyed dipping in and out of the Olympic Games and switched allegiances with careless loyalty. Most frequently France, NZ and the UK but often wildly cheering for Jamaica or Kenya. I loved the French gold medal pole-vaulter. What a difficult sport. Jessica Innes really was a goddess and I loved watching Usain Bolt win and strut and be an Olympic god. It was a fun distraction from the weary stress of worrying about the world and all the money we spend to lead a half-way decent life.

I hope Julian Assange figures out a way to avoid being trapped in a US prison like Bradley Manning. I hope to get news from our 22 year-old grandson presently on a 5-day Annapurna base camp hike in Nepal. Look forward to hearing all about it.

Meanwhile enjoy yourselves, Joselyn Morton

Poetry

Snake eggs

Seven soft rugby-shaped snake eggs hatched

this morning – perfectly formed tiny

lizards crawled out. Thank god. I hate snakes.

I found the eggs under a thick tangle

of weeds in an old iron pot. I’ll try a

rose in there next. Or maybe sweet peas.

At night too hot to sleep I read that a

found piece of heavy wood becomes a piece

of art. I’m sceptical, ponder its

brutal impudence or ignorance.

I switch on the TV, someone wipes blood

from a Syrian face. My life is so easy,

no bullets, no gaping wounds.

I don’t fight my government on the street.

I stay inside, complain about the heat.

My inertia shames me. The world is huge,

it is not enough to be kind to

exist in my mind blanking blemishes,

blinkered against the worst, backing from

conflict, avoiding night-time terrors.

We know people who sit in the full sun

at the edge of their pool, drink pale pink wine.

If it were me, I would swim, swim, swim, swim.

Life is cruel. I doze inside on the sofa

too hot outside in the hammock, I don’t

know where to put myself. I am awkward,

uncomfortable, ugly even. Tired

or lazy awake in the dark, keeping

quiet, creeping about, impatiently waiting for

a cool dawn to attack the weeds again.

Joselyn Duffy Morton ©

Roger Morton summer photos

Tractor ploughing competition at our local village of Champagne

Our best dahlia

Tour de Vésone, our local Roman tower in Perigueux

More para gliding

All images: Roger Morton