Weather

Weather Forecast Says Listen to George Ezra

Coverage
[Created by Jagriti Rumi; Source – Wikipedia]

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Relationship with the world grows like grass and creepers; growing in every direction like the grass, growing criss-cross network like the creepers. The very many we don’t know, the very few we do, together shape our lives.

Meeting not the grass patch across the road, I stay happy/unhappy with my rocks, my stones, my pals, my weeds.

And in a shrinking world – our one big grass field, our one small landmass in the world of oceans upon oceans – the seasons may change, but the weather remains the same, it is the weather to form relationships, this weather is here to stay.

Hatred and discomfort in a relationship doesn’t require much effort, it easily springs to life, nurturing illusions in separation, measuring neatly, dividing by all, leaving the remains in decimals.

Compassion, love in a relationship is all that there is to it.

Then doing a chore becomes something more, like wild grass covering and fostering the soil exuberantly, turning into meadows, savannas, prairies, pastures, it grows, not knowing the difference it grows.


Moon loves the grass and listening to George Ezra.
[Source – Pixabay]

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The weather remains the same, it is the weather to form relationships, this weather is here to stay, that is why probably the weather forecast says, ‘Listen to George Ezra’.

His songs are about forming relationships – with friends, family, the beloved, the city, the village, Tiger Lily, the oldies goldies, heaven, hell, middle earth, nature, you and me and them all.

In baritone voice, his songs narrate a story of relations without conclusions so that you can freely listen and freely walk on the grass field.

His songs share secret messages that you get before you know you did.

Without an end, like a creeper stretching its hand, meeting a tree or a forest floor, the song meets you, takes you along.

Ezra’s songs speak not about ‘eventually’, for there is no ‘eventually’, but only the now, the present, this instant, not what is fleeting, nothing is, for you’re fleeting along.

Hold on, hold on dear world for we are moving together, divided we fall, we have fallen, fallen on the green grass that if we see, observe, will share a thing or two about relations.


This weather forecast won’t fail you, rather it’ll nudge you lovingly to make do, see through and say Take Two today.

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Monday Budapest

TuesdayAnyone For You (Tiger Lily)

Wednesday Listen to the Man

Thursday – Fell In Love At The End of The World

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FridayParadise

SaturdayCassy O & Green Green Grass

Sunday Shotgun

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Twisted, quirky and stubborn relationships, at times, may overpower, confuse, ridicule you, don’t give up then, but take this antidote; first get drenched in rain and thunder, be with the darkness inside, then simply ‘blame it on me’, only to switch to a soothing greenery, back to nature for a while.

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Why Day – Did You Hear The Rain?

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Eh Day – Blame it on me

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Any Day – Barcelona


Weather forecast ‘ifs’ –

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If you want a clear sky and the day to be bright and sunny or if it is too hot and you want a happy tiny cloud to follow you for shade then listen to George Ezra’s Morning Song.

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In Bloom

A foggy day paints the forest in white bloom.
[Image by Ieva from Pixabay]

Gone are the days when a foggy day reminded of a short story that my Grandma read to me. It becomes just too awkward to step out for a walk and too dull to stay in. The wooden floor creaks when I don’t want it to.  The stairs quietly sit there, only talking to me if I stop in between and wonder about something.

Gone are the days when I wasn’t acquainted with the ceaseless and fleeting nature of time; when I didn’t understand what the wall clock was saying to me; when I thought of going through the mirror and meet Alice and her friends.

Gone are the days when the bed side table light’s friendly glow helped me to make last minute changes in the Mothers’ Day card. I always picked colours in pairs and tried my best to keep the card neat. This tradition is now forgotten though whenever I buy a card, I look for myself in the printed words.

Gone are the days when that old song transported me to my dream world. Now, my mind always takes me to a vacuum and when I suddenly come out of it I realise that that old song is over.

Gone are the days when I wrote with an ink pen, confident about what I am expressing. My letters looked as if I had scribbled throughout, but the response showed that the love always got conveyed successfully.

Gone are the days when the grass, the weeds, the flowers and I counted the clouds together. Some clouds changed the shape quickly and some remained the same – thick, heavy, floating nonetheless. The floor and the walls in the house are cold though accurately warm for me but not for the grass, the weeds and the flowers.

I try to take care of a plant. It lives in a small teacup, sitting shyly near the window. The curtains know the plant better than I do.

Gone are the days when I wished and believed that it will come true. To see the plant in bloom just the next day after planting it is a silly wish wasted as a child but I am not silly anymore and so I don’t wish.

I am going to see how the plant is enjoying the weather. It’s foggy – I’ll say to start the conversation. Come along, if you want to.

In bloom!
By Jagriti Rumi

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