Three sentences, gone, unrecovered. A broken promise by Microsoft Word. A rewrite was considered but no, let them be lost, cast adrift on a sinking raft of memories. Time is short and we must move on to arrive at our camp before night time. If we are delayed, fumbling, we will miss our destination and ourselves drift, blind with not even the stars to guide us.
Staring out of the window the yellow headed tulips have opened wide but the reds seem reluctant to follow. A blue painted wooden garden chair sits in splendid isolation on the lawn. The grass needs a cut but it is too wet, as is common practice during droughts and times of hosepipe ban. Thunderous Odin casts down his wrath; his energy arouses false anger.
But still the bird sings, perched in the hedge at the side of the garden. The rain brings the worms up to the surface. The noise of the rain on the roof has drowned out the birdsong. For all I know it works to the same principle of the refrigerator. When the door is shut the light is out. Is this the same for the bird when the rain gets too noisy?
I have to go now. Goodbye.