THE SPIDER

in her web. Another, of a different kind, nearby on a stem of a plant.
The morning started misty but soon enough the sun chased it away and it became a lovely warm, sunny day. We stayed around the house, except for going to the supermarket and buy food things.
I slept on the bench outside in the shadow. Still tired of the journey and the consternation of my injured finger. Sometimes laughing nearly when I thought of the plans I had, like reorganising our garage, that does not function as garage.
Out of the question of course.
To enjoy the view around me, inhale the smells of the earth, and look at the excess of tiny creatures that had disappeared during wintertime. The constant singing of the birds, trying to sing with them.

My haiku:

Mrs Spider sleeps
I hear her snorring if only
My ears were good enough

And the proverb:

You cannot spell Yarmouth steeple right.

1787 Grose (Norfolk)
This is a play on the word right. Yarmouth spire is awry or crooked, and cannot be set right or straight by spelling.