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 .

4 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. As usual you get the nuance without having to have it spelled out for you .

      Delete
  2. This is a fine poem, and so very true. Just lovely.

    ReplyDelete
  3. If I give you the lyrics you always seem to know the tune .

    ReplyDelete