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Restorative




Anointed with rest. Slow, succulent: the dark of each eye widens, tidal; in pours precious light. All senses connect, recline, spill joyous as a hot tub with too many people in it.
Heat in the dust of the throat, where the cough tugs through.
Honeyed and spiced, fruits and milks pour solace.
Solitude; everyone else is at work but not me.
There is me and the dog and this sofa and a book. In the afternoon we felt the sun on our faces. A white gold welt all the way from the centre of our universe.
Somewhere in the Rayburn potatoes bake. Salted, oiled, affordable.
Steam from green leaves whispers under a pan lid.
Cobwebs have gathered dust: Hausfrau Spiders live here.
Sleep gathers, is caught in blinks. 





Comments

Dixie@dcrelief said…
Sounds like dinner will be ready, soon as the napping is done.
You and dog enjoy the read time quiet.
21 January 2015 at 22:22
Lisa Southard said…
Actually having a lovely time being ill now- odd but true!
21 January 2015 at 23:32
Geo. said…
Rest and recover, Lisa. There are marvels awaiting your attention.
22 January 2015 at 02:16
The Cranky said…
Sometimes we are given moments in which to truly rest, but it often takes being ill to garner our attention for it.
22 January 2015 at 09:55
Suze said…
I like Geo.'s words. And second them. :)
22 January 2015 at 18:23
Lisa Southard said…
You are all so lovely :-) This little batch of ill has been a secret boon. Feeling ready for some convalescence!
22 January 2015 at 22:57
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