When February arrives on its wings

Seated at the rear of Starbucks it’s unimaginably elegant but always frightful what you hear. There were rascalities it seemed and they had been alerted to a patrol on its way to investigate what might be thought. Unless one is scared of the future one cannot even begin to consider how to deal with what the alert boys throw at you. In front of the store window only the reflection in the glass seems at all worth forking out one’s hard earned dough for.
The other day, strolling aimlessly through the ornamental department of John Lewis, there was a stack of creatures that had been made out of belief on sale at a discount, but they were so ugly it’s no wonder that the imagination these days is thought by some to be devalued.  It’s only money, but if the thought vanishes while you are thinking it at least the shape of the money remains, and it can be a comfort.
Which brings us to the edge of the swimming pool, and gazing down at the new carpet that has replaced the water. How it reflects the sky can’t be seen, but the sky is expanding now, and what’s in it, all that lingers is the shadow of former expectations. Don’t be disappointed, a  musician cannot be a total failure if, as is argued, there is at least one song.
And those great and graceful birds in their cages, those birds that cannot travel where they would wish because wishes are denied, if they see windows in their minds, can’t they even look through them once in  a while and fall with their dreams on to the great waste as if they were drapes of possibilities?
A washer-woman looks at the day differently, and a winged idea disappears so easily. It’s useless to try to say anything about the real world so the storyteller has to say something about the world outside of everything, which is not not there but is is there, because he says so, or she. And also is the new cloak around the shoulders, the reinforced shoes that keep feet dry, and the snow forecast to blanket us tomorrow. Please don’t discount a built world, a place for small birds to grow into large birds. The sound of their oily throats wakes us at dawn, and the horses thunder across that patch of the distance where you await, rain in your hand as if it were gems. A pleasant afternoon awaits us.
Supposing the telephone were to ring now, and a recorded voice spoke to whichever one of us in the room is not too lazy to answer it, and if we have won a prize in a fantastic competition we can’t remember entering, is that how it works? That a wheel spins and then an event occurs? Almost before it’s considered it’s become a bus, or a taxi cab would be ideal. One more thing: if two sounds disturb the stationary room, will there be a noise worth making?