warmth at last
I return again from being away.
When spring seems to promise
sun today, i desperately try to write
and stay in. I despair that inertia
keeps returning. Perhaps the state of
nothingness is truly what is for now
Worst is that I cook, clean keeping home
a place of return when I come but there is not
a sense of physical touch - it has gone from us
yet the warmth of making a meal, offering it
as i gift is what I can give now, and it is eaten
consumed as once love was ravishing.
8am- noon- write
afternoon walk by the river
make supper then
sip the wine of dreams
a horse to ride, Ireland to live in
and Cruach Padhraig to climb.
I return again from being away.
When spring seems to promise
sun today, i desperately try to write
and stay in. I despair that inertia
keeps returning. Perhaps the state of
nothingness is truly what is for now
Worst is that I cook, clean keeping home
a place of return when I come but there is not
a sense of physical touch - it has gone from us
yet the warmth of making a meal, offering it
as i gift is what I can give now, and it is eaten
consumed as once love was ravishing.
8am- noon- write
afternoon walk by the river
make supper then
sip the wine of dreams
a horse to ride, Ireland to live in
and Cruach Padhraig to climb.