Monday, 17 February 2020
Arriving .
Because we could we took on the weather .
All the batten down the hatches days since Christmas and others as well . There we have been , out in the landscape .
On Sunday , as the storm whirled away , we slid by highway and mostly byway to a seascape .
The choppy sea jumped and sloshed , jumped and sloshed . Cormorants scud the sky to hidden havens . We each ate a thoughtful ham sandwich .
I said that the sky , being apricot , sky blue and charcoal grey , would make me a lovely dress in swishy satin and rough silk . The saxophonist agreed .
Back at home , either side of the table , we cupped big mugs of steaming tea .
I said "Glorious though it is , do you want to do that anymore ? "
"No " said the saxophonist .
"Me neither " I said .
We realized we had no need to do it anymore . We have moved on .
This morning I rolled over with intent .
"Yes " said the saxophonist .
Sometimes the destination is right where you are .
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Indeed. Home can be best.
ReplyDeleteAs usual you get the nuance without having to have it spelled out for you .
DeleteThis is a fine poem, and so very true. Just lovely.
ReplyDeleteIf I give you the lyrics you always seem to know the tune .
ReplyDelete