Fence and cosmos

This is the attempt I made recently to cover the gaps in the crap shrinking fencing of Richardson’s. I actually quite like it (it’s some of the old bits of fencing from old home that I had luckily thought to bring with me thinking it might come in useful!).
Little change today, no energy for anything.
Lots of talk of endings of various kinds... enjoyed drifting in and out listening to Geoff Dyer’s ‘Last Days of Roger Federer’.
Not for the first time I realise this would have been the death of P. if he were still with us and illness seems to be doing a good job of exacerbating the pain of severance.

e.e.cummings

without the mercy of
your eyes your
voice your
ways(o very most my shining love)

how more than dark i am,
no song(no
thing)no
silence ever told;it has no name-

but should this namelessness
(completely
fleetly)
vanish,at the infinite precise

thrill of your beauty,then
my lost my
dazed my
whereful selves they put on here again

- to livingest one star
as small these
all these
thankful(hark)birds singing wholly are