The Weekend

It’s been a busy weekend. I’m not sure if it was planned that way or if it just creeped up on us. But it was definitely a family kind of time. And as I start getting ready for turning in with a good book ( more to say here as I share my reading for the month soon), I do so with a contented smile on my face.

For the last few months, the weekend has come and gone with nothing to show for it. Yes this is prime time to rest and recover from the week. But it is also important time to reconnect with those closest to me. My peeps. And this can be done inside or outside the house. The important thing is to make the time. And to be honest, we haven’t been making the time.

I feel the difference, now at Sunday night, of enjoying a weekend where we have made time for each other. We’ve been to a basketball match as a family. Met up with friends for rollerblading. Went on an evening excursion to look at the dark skies. It was cloudy though but still a learning experience. And then today, having granddad round for dinner, was the best way to round it all off.

We’re not made of money and probably couldn’t do all these activities every weekend. But it wasn’t so much about what we did or where we went. It was all about spending time with each other.

I’m grateful for what we did this weekend as well as how we were. Doing and being together has set me up for the week ahead with a smile in my heart.

Sleepless in a Seaside Resort ( sort of)

your body aches
as comfort evades you
your mind rummages
around dark recesses
doubling back into wounds

sneaky drafts seep through window panes along with the cries of seagulls
eyes gritty and sore, moisture absent

when will it be morn?
when this charade can be over
for another night?
when you can drag your body
towards the light
your consciousness
compromised and dull?

but it’s the best you can do
after sleepless nights
under salty cold air

Little Deaths

I discard boots before I hit the sand.
Dense turfs of grass tickle my ankles.
Raised veins single the cold.

White winter light under a wolf moon. Deep. Red. Heart.
The sight of seagulls.
Wingbeat to wingbeat song.

Stripping down to my costume
rich flesh graces the air.
Dip one. Slip one. Soon come.

Into the sharp shallows.
Howling with a hunger.
Dip one. Slip one.

Handfuls of sea slipping
through fingers towards
total immersion.

Welcome these little deaths,
to be born again and again.
Here and there and afterwards,

in solitude, as traces of you linger.