Sunday, 5 May 2013

Writing - Spring (Hay) Fever

Beneath the arena in the Colosseum

I took this photograph while in the Colosseum last week. I took it because I was so impressed with the cleverness of the whole arrangements for getting the animals and gladiators into the arena. If you can imagine two levels below the arena itself, one where the animals were housed and one above their cages that allowed for ramps to be lowered allowing access to the games area. The animal cages were winched up a level to the ramps that were lowered allowing the lions etc to get into the arena seemingly like magic. Amazing! The ingenuity of the Romans is legend anyway but they did all this on an average of a bottle and a half of wine per citizen per day! Perhaps I need to up my intake to achieve the level of creativity I'm looking for.
 is mind blowing.
I have been asked by loads of people how much I enjoyed the visit and have to say that it was wonderful without reservation. To think that people walked where I was walking but 2000 years and more previously.
It makes me wonder if in a similar period of time in the future people will say similar things about our modern cities.

'A book is a friend that does what no friend can do - stay quiet when you want to think!'

We've all either read, discussed or wondered why God made certain creatures. You know the sort of thing,
"God made beautiful flowers, bumble bees and song birds but why SLUGS?"
Well I came across a few more today from a gardener's point of view. Greenfly on roses, maggots on peas, midges, mosquitoes, fungus and more but when the sun shines the blossom is out and spring has sprung why HAYFEVER?

Spring Fever

It has come round to that time again, to the beautiful sun and the sky,
And all I ask is a good night’s sleep and dry nose to smell her by,
And the flowers’ scent and the insect’s song and the white clouds scudding,
And a stinging sensation on my whole face, and a drippy dawn breaking.

It must be back to the spring again, for the sting of the running eyes
Is an insistent sting and a clear sting that may not be denied
And all I ask is a wet day with the dark clouds flying,
And the flung rain and the dampened pollen, and the drips subsiding.

It must be back to the spring again, to the soggy miserable life,
To the grasses’ way and the trees’ way, where the pollen’s like a virus that is rife;
And all I ask is a moments peace from an itching proboscis,
And quiet sleep and a dry hankie till the spring season closes.
©David L Atkinson May 2013

God Bless