Getting to Fridays

February 21, 2011

Kids not home this weekend.

My own.

And others.

Who turn up.

Every Friday.

With 5 bags of laundry.

And an appetite.

To fill a pot.

Of chicken soup and noodles.

Knowing they’re fine.

But wanting.


To feel them solid.

As Sabbath arrives.

And though a quiet weekend.

Arrives like a gift.

An empty laundry basket.

Is smaller consolation.

Than I thought it would be.


Acting from the heart

February 21, 2011

Acting from my heart.

I can listen.

To the possibilities.

That present themselves.

When ego sits quiet.

And be inside.

The wisdom.

And synchronicity.

With time to notice.

The crumbs.

That fall between the cracks.

Smelling Memories

February 18, 2011

Laughed with tears today.

At the smell of a rose.


Aged eight.

My grandmother.

Cutting weekend flowers.

In my grandfather’s rose garden.

Memories long forgotten.

Evoked by a single sense. 

A gift.

Not always appreciated.

But today.

My grandparents brushed by.

With the smell of a rose.

Losing myself

February 15, 2011

Forgot how to sit today.

Spent the day.

With a whirling mind.

And fingers in dams.

While typing. 

And a list of To Dos.

That didn’t get shorter.

For all my multitasking.

And at the end of the day.

Said goodbye.

To the sun I hadn’t seen.

And tried to find myself.

In calm.

For a new day tomorrow.

Heartened by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.


Flowing grateful

February 14, 2011

Today I am grateful.

For the rainbow.


When I opened the door.

For my absent daughter.

Home for the weekend.

For the rain.

Washing the garden.

A rare visitor.

For the early night.

Of blissful sleep. Unbroken.

For the cup that didn’t break.

Though it slipped from my hands.

And for the gift.

Of just being here. Today.


February 10, 2011

A friend had a showing.

Of strong, simple art.

Made in the gaps.

In the valleys and peaks.

Of a complex life.

Not lived easy.

Carving love.

And time.

Into the wood.

With a light fine hand.

To bring out.

A beauty not obvious.

Listening to music

February 10, 2011

Listening to the radio.

On the way to work.


With music.

From a wild teenage night.

To a long-healed hurt.

With a stop on the way.

At the funny. And ridiculous.


Accompanied by yesterday.

As I drive.

Blowing away cobwebs

February 6, 2011

Woke to a blue day today.

An out of sorts day.

That comes.

Once in a while.

At odds and ends. With myself.

And others.

A day to get out of my own way.

To move the energy. That settles on my shoulders.

Had coffee with a friend.

Who knows about deliberate healing.

Warm food. Quiet. Early night.

Giving some time.

Letting the cobwebs blow. Away.

Watched cats and dogs today.

Just doing their thing.

The dog. Ridiculous on its back.

Legs in air.

The cat. Lazy hussy.

Hogging the warm spot in the winter sun.

Not much worried.

About a productive life.

Or appearances.

Or stuff.

Just hanging in the moment

And reading Mark Twain.

For how else would they know.

To dance like nobody’s watching.