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After A Stinky Shift, A Solstice Swim

It is the Longest Day in more than one way. Work is an indoor fug of bad smells on a muggy day. I get in my car when the shift is done; it is stuffy, and probably smelly but I’m too used to it to really care- it has a vegetable tinge. Opening the windows lets in a healing draft of fresh vegetation; field grass, hedge flowers; this is the beginning of getting my Solstice balance back.  Bird music shimmies from tall trees. High in the sky, set in blue, is a shining half-moon. I park up, and walk down a smooth skinny lane, swapping troubles for details- here grows a rose, here a pretty shadow falls. Here is a beach of fine sand. Low to the left, a blazing eye of sun casts over a silver-blue sea. I hear the lazy roll of waves, the gulls, some children laughing. And now: cool water on my longing skin. I swim out. I find perfect balance. I draw it in through sensory contact, I make a space for it within.  Holding my head up in the gold light I ask the sun for a blessing. Even as I'm...
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Flaming May, Blooming June

Heartened by signs of spring we had begun to hunt for summer. It had hid so well, under days that stretched out light but not warmth, we began to worry. When it pounced it was glorious and shocking: still in our cold weather clothes suddenly the alchemy of heat swept through everything.  Butter was a liquid, our icy, cavelike bathroom was a blessing, the roads were lava. Grass grew taller than fences. Strawberries got fat.  On my commute, cars became carapaces catching sun, shining scales on a snaking neck. Road kill was crow jerky in roadside dust.  Ox eyed daisies lifted up, radiating cool petals, signalling hope.  Signalling remember: signalling balance. Death feeds the carrion birds, and the earth; it becomes the soil to nurture roots.  The sun can both love and blister you.  And then, as the calendar turned to the first month of summer, rain came; it was dumped by the bucket, it washed away the heat, made mud from dust. It suckled the flowers into bloo...

A Happy Kind Of Idiot

I am watching hazel leaves shimmy in a breeze, they are keeping time with the buzz of nettle stings that run from my fingertips to my elbows. It feels like I'm wearing gloves made of needles; why didn't I just wear gloves to clear the nettles from the raspberry hedge? But I like to know the plants, how they grow, how they smell, how they stain and sting, what bugs shelter in their leaves, what grubs and gastropods nestle at the roots. How the roots sneak under weedblocks, moon-pale, and over open ground where they are purplish, bullish.  I like the work to affect, I like interactive life.  It has a little pain and a lot of interest.  Not all the nettles are gone, of course, some must be left to house caterpillars, and they are a healthy vegetable for people too. Today’s crop is for compost though, to feed the soil, the miracle stuff from which this abundance grows. How could I not wish to be close to that?  At home I have a shower, scrub my sore hands- and still I sm...

Hometime Foam Time

It was hot outside, cold indoors. When we were freed from the hall I opened my car thinking oven gloves might be required for driving. I was weary. I was lined up for a row of shifts- but the evenings are lighter now, and the beach was calling. I drove a wiggly route to Veryan (the road I chose was closed) and down to Carne Beach. Since I had checked the weather the wind had turned easterly, and the tide was in. There were waves smacking over a disappearing line of fine sand. Undeterred I wriggled my swimsuit on and went to play in the foam.  Neither air nor sea was particularly cold. Blue and cloud patterned sky, blue and turquoise patterned sea, flowers blooming and swooshed by the wind, and the warm brown crags of rock: to be here was to be directly connected to the source of all existence.  Home time was foam time, and vice versa. Afterwards I sat in my car, door open, eating a square of dark chocolate, watching the white flecks and trying to work out if the dark dot was a...

Description Is The Narrative

To have a day undriven by plot, how gentle that is on mind and body. I will get things done, yes, at an unforced pace - I will be moved like water by gravity, by tide; these natural magics will be my energy today.  Stirred to waking by birdsong.  Resting awhile listening to the hedgebirds, to the whisper of soft rain before rolling up the window blind to see tree tips swaying and a sky of such pale grey it seems invisible.  I want coffee so I make some. Fresh, strong. Chilled fingers wrapping a warm mug. More song and chatter from the city of birdlife. Somewhere a tractor rumbles. I review a list of chores.  All the way from my toes, tucked in wool socks, a smile rises. It goes up and up into the invisible sky, I don’t care that it’s raining. When the description is the narrative, it is enough, it is everything.

In Spring Our Thoughts Turn To Loss

I'm not sure this poem is quite right, but out it goes. I keep writing and forgetting to post any of it- today I remember a very beautiful ghost, a YOLO blend of care free and care full. She would be- she is- rolling her eyes, pretending not to love the attention. Fare thee well dear one, wherever you wander you are settled in our hearts xxx

Bloom And Boom

Sunshine and cloud that piles up, up, up in spite of the pushy breeze: treetops bobbing, washing flailing on the line. It is warm behind glass. Croscomias poke up leaves of flaming green, the daffodils are in full voice, celandines and primroses proliferate. Here and there a tulip ventures, and hyacinths trail heavy scent. Blackthorn blossoms, hawthorn comes to leaf. Whether the cold comes back, as it does some years, echoing winter, the earth is awake, daylight hours are stretching and ready for the buzz of pollinators, for the nesting of birds, the bloom and boom of spring.