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Hurting today.
Claudette. You know.
Snowing like a Christmas card outside and I can't share it with her.
And I never got her to like Larkin.
All I could think of when walking through the woods in Arran (yet to be documented) was his poem about Spring, First Sight.
"Earth's immeasurable surprise"
He was a great poet for long dragging syllables, just where they had the most effect.
Today is a day when I wonder why I am waiting too.
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Life's hard you know, so strike a pose on a Cadillac
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