FRESH AIR

I watch the golden sand beach that closes into a point on the horizon, first to the right, then to the left. I can see one lone fisherman, two hundred metres distance. He holds his rod still and straight, like a praying mantis, waiting for a catch. 

There have been other visitors to the beach, smudged footprints, just out of wave wash reach can still be seen. A grey-green crumpled paper sea is rocking gently to shore. Looking out to sea, a thin vertical mark can be seen where the water meets the sky, so thin that if you didn't know it was there to be seen, you would miss it. Man claims his oil. 

Is that all life is? Energy. What happens when you run out of energy? Easy, go and buy more petrol. Works for a car, but not for me. I wish life was that easy. 

I am like a piece of driftwood washed up on the shore, hoping there is more to life, but fearing there might not be. How long do I wait? Will I ever know? I cannot wait here on the shore, if I stay here this will be the end. I want a beginning, but my sea, my life, is large and uncharted.

I have to leave, if only I could put the seaside air in a can, because any can of air fresh bought, is not like the air here, calming and relaxing, incense, myrrh, the embalming fragrance and wound dressing. Is that the perfume that the Mary's took with them? I need their Gardener. Weeds smother me. 

Clearing an overgrown garden takes time, I pray and wait, like the mantis. One day soon, I hope my path will have fewer weeds, and I won't feel so smothered. Then I will be able to walk in the fresh air alongside the Gardener.

Winter Solstice

Morning and light rain is swept across town by wind that has blown in from Antarctica. Winter is only twenty-one days old and grips the shortest day of the year with chilled claws.

Cats with cabin fever ask to go out, five minutes later they want to come back in. I have lost count of how many times I have repeated this today. They just can't believe the wind is so cold.

I spent the day with a good book, and the heater helped too. 

My cats, now that the sun has set, are seated in their favourite chairs, they are pleased with themselves, it is so much easier to hunt off their companion, and are happy to sleep inside tonight.

Tomorrow my sunlight allocation increases, a tiny, tiny bit, and winter will be another day gone. I can't complain, dare not complain, this wet winter is so, so, better than a dry one.