Journey of Words

Tag: Separation

  • Domestic News

    The internal dialogue loops through courtesies, simple enquiries about health, discussions about food. Subtle changes in conversation lead to redrafted perceptions. Two siblings sharing a house again after more than four decades. As before, this is not through any fault of our own, but this time we make the rules. We are not so much →

  • Day 22

    No one, but no one, is on the road this morning. I cycle up the long rise away from the coast accompanied by larks above the meadows and bees in the hedgerows. A running hare skids to a halt in a shower of grit and dust as I come round a bend into its path. →

  • Dandelion Clock

    Each delicate breath A hostage of mis-fortune Answer hangs on breeze . CLP 08/04/2020 →

  • Novel

    Don’t call it “Normal” That just isn’t true These times are strange Loneliness Hangs heavy as April’s Moon Fat, heavy, moving slow Will we meet again Before Winter’s snows? . CLP 07/04/2020 →

  • Day 18

    A clear, still night and a tawny owl’s calls are distinctly audible at 2 a.m. The three-quarter moon casts silver light on the bedroom wall through a gap in the curtains. Day comes with sunshine accompanied, at last, by warmth. I spent a couple of hours soaking up sunbeams stretched out on a bench; birdsong →

  • Day 17

    It was announced today that two NHS nurses working in Intensive Care Units around the country have died of the Covid-19 coronavirus. They were all in their 30s. I think of my eldest son working in that role in a hospital in the south of England. I think of little else. . CLP 03/04/2020 →

  • Day 15

    April already! My day is consumed with detailed work, but it is still light enough for me to set out walking just after six in the evening. Bard Hill is covered in hawthorn bushes glowing with white blossom – it looks as if it’s snowed. I stop halfway up the traffic-free lane to listen to →

  • Day 13

    The rhythm of the day is beginning to lose its pattern. Middle of night interruptions to sleep come without pressure to return to dreamland. Distance from others is becoming accepted; is there any point going out there? Eschewing television as formulaic, lacking originality, dull, I choose to listen to music. Lyrics bore me. Orchestral compositions, →

  • On Separation

    Boxed heart stays constant Old fears prowl; rattle casket Rhythm misses beat . Contactless eyes dumb Imagination finds voice Tremors felt in gut . Misunderstandings Fill up conversation voids Muddy evidence . Dig gently for truth Listen to answers; reflect Retire to consider . Never forget this: Distance forms Hall of Mirrors; Boxed hearts stay →

  • Day 12

    British Summer Time, the forward shift of clocks by an hour, has blown in on a gale straight off the North Sea. Hailstones are spat at the window. Some of the ice pellets stick before slipping slowly; disintegrating as they slide, leaving a tear stain on the pane. The hazel bush flexes in the gusts, →