It's not all flowers and sunshine
these days, more a dark wondering
how to keep going when the end for some
is inexplicably soon. How to make sense
of the random, find meaning while knowing
and feeling that life is not fair?
I can hear Bach understood something
listening to his endless lucid movements
full of variation, like ripples on sea water
or the rings of a tree, like life.
Making things is good
for my mind I feel
channelling scattered thoughts and
energy into hand movements
and tangible presence -
connecting colours with words.
And so it is time for daffodils again
annual harbingers of spring, full
of yellow daring and defiance
when winter suddenly returns.
Confident double stars swing in
the wind, while inside a vase shines
with the smiling colour of happy.
Water touched by sun edging
past clouds that float
towards me I suddenly hear
on my headphones how
Vivaldi is grounded in
what happened - all
that can happen again
while leaning towards
the possibility of hope.
In these dark days only
electric shadows are patterning
walls and wet streets.
The dog and her collar lit up
walk through dripping branches,
slushy grass and there is suddenly
another dog enthusiastically
eyed up by mine charging
forward crouching to invite play.
They sniff turn decide to ignore
each other. I take my hand
out of a snug pocket to pet her but
she impatiently runs on towards
the shadow of a squirrel.