My Silver Birch tree finally changes leaves to gold green remained long after fall told it was here flowers bloom still, colors in array abuse of the atmosphere is something we will pay
A cold snap last weekend chilled my heart winter winds work their way with driving rain the damp dankness depresses my lungs I thrive only in fine dry warm weather, wellness there
The coming winter fills me with dread, yet happy I choose to be misery may love company, but company will soon flee each day brings birth to joy in life I will not stress, strain the time or lose myself in strife
Some evenings ago I lit a candle on my window ledge.This was something new to me. I light candles a lot, but never before by an open window.
The light danced. It flickered and guttered whimsically. It was so peaceful. I turned out my light and my bedroom was filled with wavering shadows, seductive light moving with the air.
I relaxed, I slept, and in the morning I was greeted by the still flowing light. I rose at once and put out the candle so I could be mesmerised once more in the coming night.
Many religions celebrate light as we lose it, but the Christian calendar does not until Christmas. Then we are plunged in darkness but begin to look forward to the second by second increase of light.
Jesus told me he is the Light of the world. I celebrate light in all its forms. The candle at my window is a new ritual for me.
The pretty butterfly that catches your eye began life crawling as a caterpillar It changed in a chrysalis, a bit like a sack Nature has tricks and that is no lie
Watch on the ground as well as the air creatures help make food for you and me Bees won’t harm you just see them drift from flower to flower because they are there
Nature is magical, all have their place Trees are breathing to give us clean air Tell all your friends that you know this secret ask them to plant a flower in a pot or someplace
We ask why? of God But I think he asks why of us Why have we destroyed forests Put poison on the ground Made war and slaughtered many Why do we traffic people Make slavery of them And continue to sell armory
Why have we corrupted ourselves We need to ask ourselves why?
I always pretend to hear whispers of our world, yet my mind always drifts towards that open void, reflecting on kisses that undress the ache of my scars, unfurling sorrows as if silken ribbons. These will never wither, but will be absorbed by you when low moments come to mock.
And as time settles into evening, your shadow will hang itself from my core. And with sighs quivering between my lips – my spirit will wrap itself around warmth of your body. And when you stroke your fingers through my hair – you will feel each aching breath of me.
Today a Prince among men has died royal in birth, a refugee, a child passed from land to land. He won the heart and hand of a Princess wooed her, married, and served her well renouncing his title to be her Prince.
Roguish, dapper, charming, and smart he was unflinching in the task, he took no flatter, no false position, tireless he worked in science, youth, conservation, trees, he gave himself, devoted to his Queen.
Now wear black, stop the clock, a Prince is dead, our Queen in mourning.
Published in The Lark 09 04 21
I never realised what he gave up, or how he was a refugee from one year old. He was a born leader, but walked one step behind when his wife became Queen. He was her confidante, partner, advisor, and husband.
Ancient history now, but still sometimes in my mind, I see you kissing me so deeply such craving for touch until then I knew not your tall, broad, body at an angle to my small one
I see it as if from the ceiling, maybe your size made me aware much more that you are male the hunger and need caught me by surprise a recognition was lit in my soul to nurture you
So it was, I fed you what you were longing for since then you’ve lied and betrayed our trist calling you spineless was true after all, though my pain because of it was deep. I don’t know why
I saw the truth but wanted to deny your sweetness was encased in a troubled heart, bereaved so young you have no idea of being loved or loving back you numb yourself with drink but worse, enable a drunk
My garden has taken work and time to become the haven for wildlife Í planted trees, dug out a stubborn weed made sure rain sinks into the ground
My path gets tufts of weed, I leave them critters live and hibernate in them I take them out late in spring, to start another year of growth, it’s valuable
Eventually, I took away the grass, no time or energy to mow, replaced with moss and gravelly stones in between the flowers low maintenance is my key, and pleasure
Birds visit each day, bees, butterflies and moths they pollinate, make good company, my haven designed for them and me. A place to sit a rest a while with my friends and family
Hanging baskets now adorn the walls, blooms trail and grow upright too, wish I’d done before No annuals, just self seed, or grow from year to year my own sweetest fruit and vegetables are cropped
Writer and psychologist. My health, a journey with two life shortening diseases 
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