Sitting here by the fire, my feet still cold…..
and the sounds of high winds outside,
the ticking of the clock on the wall
and the deafening sound of no traffic,
fills me with delicious,
puffy cheeked smugness!
This is 3.30am ~ ‘ME’ time…..
No one will phone me,
I have no desire or need to
answer social media messages ~
unless I choose to……
No one will knock at my door…..
It’s just me, my books, pencils and paints…..
and the sounds of night before light.
Night in full flight
sits upon my chest,
pinning me down
forcing me to make sense of it
and use it wisely.
But I rise up like a cackling spectre
and ride this ‘night’ on its satin back,
peering through the windows
of a turbulent world
and spreading a morning mist
as the light of day hums it’s way in.
I shall have little sleep this night
for I follow the Pipistrelle and Serotine
way up in the sky allowing myself
the ecstatic joy of dancing with the Lights
of the firmament and the winds of the earth.
We are all things of the mysterious and the mundane
and yet we cannot grasp the magnitude of
of the brilliance of all things….
for we keep ourselves asleep
when in fact,
it is time for us to fly.
Ostinato of Autumn
The change from summer to autumn
came rattling at my windows,
sounding in the trees
like the ocean’s breaking waves
and I lay there listening,
with an anxiety
not felt for many months and moons,
to nature’s symphony.
You lay next to me,
flesh white and cool
with goose bumps
asking to be covered.
Sounds of your breathing,
the restless night, brought comforting images of
saw and bow and I giggled, silently.
How I do love you,
you with the gift for ostinato.