
this gap in time
a space. between
soft greys and
coming greens
a time to
change. pace
and watch a snail
trail on a square
window pane
a blur of dulled
consciousness
from pain meds
mirroring
condensation
on mid winter
dawn’s triple
glazed thrall

‘Old stick backs’
Monday morning, nearly Christmas
Sitting reading and drinking a first coffee by the stove
Just retrieved the hyacinths ‘forcing’, from the cupboard, in the yellow bowl
They always hold so much promise
At this, their etiolated stage
Like us, searching for the light
All the blue and yellow
Like a painting, perhaps I haven’t painted yet
💙💛
(Little painting above the door by Heidi Nguyen)

I am quite tempted to leave this year’s tree in its ‘naked’ state, a symbol of Winter’s rest and retreat rather than an allusion to all that glitter and gluttony of our often over-done festival time
But I expect in a few hours I will relent and look for the tangle of wires and bulbs and the dusty box of baubles in the store room
