I bob along on a stream of days
which blend and blur and
into the past.
Days without shape.
My normally tight grasp
on the calendar
and I am prone to moments
‘Should I be working today?’
‘Am I supposed to be in a meeting right now?’
‘What exactly did I do last weekend?’
The future is full of haze and mirage,
the horizon obscured by fog.
More than ever,
the only thing that seems real
is this one
I sip my first cup of tea
surrounded by birdsong
as bees breakfast on the columbines.
Now that warmer weather has arrived, I have started having breakfast outside in the garden instead of mindlessly slumping on the sofa in front of breakfast TV news.
We’ve had a run of lovely mornings; blue sky, sunshine, fresh cool morning air.
I find this so calming. The immersion in nature relaxing my body and mind. The felt sense of my belonging, my need for this outdoor world.
I resolve, even when the weather is bad and I have breakfast indoors, to stay away from the morning TV news with all its negativity and trivia, telling me things I don’t need to know, ignoring the things I consider to be important. It gives me the impression that the world is a dangerous place, when just outside my window the world itself is telling me a different story. It sends me into my day with a sense of unease.
There is news in the garden too, much of it in a language I barely understand, passed on in song or bee-dance. Some of it is every bit as sensational as the TV news, tales of life and death. Did the baby blackbirds in the nest in the hedge make it through the night? (its awfully quiet in there). Did the deer eat my broad bean plants? There are stories of growth, news of the flowers most ripe with nectar and pollen, of turf wars between the robins.
Out here there is no clock in the corner of the screen hurrying along the minutes, so I linger, then sit down to work a little later than I planned. I take indoors with me a sense of calm that permeates my day.
What are your morning routines? Do they make you happy?
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May rushes on,
a juggernaut of growth,
an expansion into summer fullness.
Pay attention to every moment
or I will slip through your fingers.
A hailstorm engulfed the woods.
I walked, partially sheltered by
the bare branches,
cocooned, warm in my coat as
the hailstones drummed on my head.
It passed over, the last balls of ice
bounced off my hair as
I put my hood down.
I emerged into sunshine,
a cool fresh breeze,
You can always find contentment if you walk far enough!
These gentle beams
which bathe my skin
touched the cold rock of the moon
moments before they touched me.
I sit in wonder
to the universe.
The absence of fairy lights
reveals the gloom of January.
Let’s make our own light.
Mountaintops glow orange.
on November snow.
I am breathing in the cold night air
as goose calls drift up from the estuary.
We share the same moonlight.