Life Slants

It’s mid afternoon, but already getting cool inside. I’ve got the fire going, low key, just enough to take the chill off the air. The sun’s slanting in where I’m sitting, the shadows of latticework of the back security door dance runic across my desk. Lily plant leaves are veined with green and vivid light. The sun edges near crystals and stones I’ve cleaned and left on a small table outside. Time to let them breathe I told myself earlier in the day, taking them off my desk, washing them in fresh clear water, letting the breeze dry them. The same colours are reapeated : so many varieties of green, Maori jade,turquoise and green tourmaline; and the sandy colours of stones from the beach full of wrinkled stories; and the golden generosity of citrines.

Some days I search for greenness yet there it is outside, in the gardenm, wild with weeds emerging fast after the rain of the last few days and parsely and rocket popping everywhere.

I like some parts of the garden to be a place to discover, and other parts to be more ordered, more accessible, less dense. This week I’ll tidy the garden up, just as I’ve tidied my desk today, that fine balance between order and space, wildness and unpredictability.

About bydda88

I love poetry, writing, especially writing as healing, as touching the sacred, being touched. And place, places dreaming us, us them. Coasts, rivers, canyons; the ordinary things too, the small things, gestures that reach out.
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