Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Judge Pebble Presiding The Defendant: Mud Speck (representing himself) The Prosecutor: Paper Scrap The Charge: Trespass of the puddle beside the lamppost on the other side of the road. The Plea: Not Guilty. PAPER SCRAP -  Mr Speck, you float accused of a serious offence here. You are aware that the puddle in question is only an inch deep, are you not? MUD SPECK -  I am. I refuse to further comment on such a shallow charge. PAPER SCRAP -  Mr Speck, this is a cross examination. You are expected to comment. MUD SPECK -  I refer back to my alibi. PAPER SCRAP -  Yes. Your alibi. I would like to clarify some detail. MUD SPECK -  If you must. PAPER SCRAP -  You claim that on the night in question you had...sunk? Is that correct? MUD SPECK -  Yes. To my usual crack in the pavement. PAPER SCRAP -  And the purpose of your visit? MUD SPECK -  I have relatives down there. PAPER SCRAP ...

In the night, grief falls like rain. It is the gentle patter of tears, Or the cold drizzle of sadness Or a sudden, heavy downpour That drenches completely.  It seeps through the cracks of a parched heart,  Swells the seed of memory, and stirs A reluctant, fragile unfurling,  That, tender, turns towards the light To blossom and bleed afresh.