May Observation

May is the Most Marvellous of Months in The Garden
May is the Most Marvellous of Months to have a Writing Moment
A warm May evening is delectable.

When the cuckoo vocalises its name from minor to major third, 
sometimes to a fourth 

or an interval in-between

that is why it’s sometimes hard for me to echo.

When the nightingale plays an operatic role 

it doesn’t need a chorus.  

He is singing now, waiting for a friend to cease his solitude.

My cat likes to be stroked in hot evening sunshine 

as she lies on the table. 

I forgive her as she stretches out in pure pleasure.
Naughty cat!

She frowns when she hears the neighbour say ‘Stop’ 

to presumably the dog 

as there was no reply.   

Big Feet’s fur is so incredibly hot as it absorbs the sun. 

Her head is cool 

but as I run my hand along her back 

it becomes hotter midway along her spine 

hottest three-quarters of the way, almost too hot to touch, 

then her tail is quite cool.  
How a cat responds to sunshine is quite phenomenal. 

How can she cope with such heat as she lies on the oiled skin / plastic tablecloth?

She loves it when I stroke and scrunch a right ear with my left hand.

This time she stretches closer to my pen, 
reaching out to touch lightly with both paws 

as an acknowledgement 

that I am writing about her.
A narcissistic cat!

Now she has turned so that her cooler tummy faces the sun.   

She has always been called a French tart, a French tottie.

She is very much at home in my garden.   

I stroke under her chin and along the jawline.  

She caught a field mouse this morning.

My loud voice told her to go ‘OUT’ of the house.  

It’s really warm 

so I remove layers of my own clothing 

and expose my skin towards the golden ball 

to enjoy the heat of sun for the first time in the year.   

It’s after six p.m.

It's the second week of May.