Categories
Poetry

Life As It May

Morning.

White haze beyond the window.

Eyes, hands, hair; a warm blanket nest.

Coffee, a whisper.

Peace and a day?

Or a splash of grey?

Soft.

Beyond the sunrise.

Life as it may.

Categories
Life

The Sad of Life

There’s a sad drooping in the air today.

A deep sad, thick among the fog of all things left unsaid.

It floats in the river and I catch it in my cup, most unwillingly—

oddly enthusiastically.

Tomorrow, I will place it in the trees and fly it back home.

And I will send for the sun to melt the ice it left behind.

photo of body of water in between grass field during golden hour
Photo by Avery Nielsen-Webb on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

The Magic of Rain

Because rain was always meant to be magic.

Now do you remember?

women s gray dress
Photo by Oleksandr Pidvalnyi on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

In The Black Of Night

I’m sitting by the fire in the black of the night.

The sun shines on the other side of the world and yet here my mind is, alive without it, wondering when sleep will call for me again. My nose is cold. I’m wondering how I might fix that, too.

When the night wakes me, I lay in bed for the longest time, quite clear about the world inside of me. It’s a mystery, isn’t it, that the answers we seek in the light of the day seem somehow more visible in the dark (the actual dark).

Perhaps this awake time is good for me. A gift of energetic privacy: a land of alone, where there is no one but me to answer to, no societal rules to burden me, no expectations to snuggle in with them.

All there is in the dark of night is me, and the fire, and the moon.

I am soothed by the quiet of that.

brown beside fireplace near brown wicker basket
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

 

 

Categories
A Blog a Day in May

Sad Hands

My hands are not happy with me. If there were little faces in the middle of my palms, both faces would feature a raised eyebrow and an angry forehead, absolutely. They’ve had a big day, the poor muffins. But because they’ve had a big day…I’ve had a good one. A satisfying one.

It all started when a GIGANTIC load of firewood landed in the driveway. I’d just finished putting my little girl into bed when I noticed the truck and the man and the wood, ALL the wood, goodness gracious me.

I called my husband and tried to explain to him the faces my hands had begun to make in preparation for the mammoth effort that lay in front of me. In other words. Oh, bother. Wood. In driveway. Who is going to move it? Oh, yes, that’s right: me.

My husband (who was at work, probably grinning) suggested that I tidy the firewood storage area and, If I could do that by the time he got home, he would happily do the lifting, the wheelbarrowing, the stacking. The stacking. The stacking.

Well, could I just leave it, and wait for a man?

I would not just leave it there, NO, Sam I Am!

Instead, me and my little people bundled into our ‘cold day’ clothes, and with the Super Mario Brothers theme song blipping away in the background, Mummy moved the wood. All of it. All-of-it.

What a legend.

What an amazing, awesome, mega wonderful—and unbelievably modest—super champion I am.

Now.

How to convince my aching hands that this whole wooden adventure has all been worth it?

This may take a while.

bicycle bike brakes classic
Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

 

Categories
Life

Somewhere Summer

When the leaves start to fall and the sun slides all the way ’round to the other side of the world…

I get a little bit grumpy.

A little bit cooped up.

A little bit sad.

You could say I’m allergic to winter.

I know. Poor me.

Just think of my cold little toes!

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Maybe I just prefer bright.

Colour.

A bit of gold on a cloud.

A bit of glare on a train track.

A bit of peace from the wildlings who leap the couches and roar

And climb me, like the ladder I so clearly am.

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And the gym!

My goodness, they’ll be pleased.

We miss you, they said in summer;

A pointy-fingered email for every time I chose to exercise in the great outdoors…

Instead of on their sweat-crusted cross trainer.

Yes, gym. It’s true.

The grey skies will bring me back to you.

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And don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad.

There’s the wood that crackles in the fire. The quiet moments that dull the adorable LOUD.

And then there’s you.

My friends in the north, peeling off your chunky wool sweaters. Frolicking in the splendor of a sun-lit strip.

I’ll think of you and your sweet, sweet summer and do you know what I’ll do?

I’ll smile. Because at least someone will be sipping Pina Coladas, pool-side.

Even if it won’t be me.

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