I’m thankful for the trees in my garden which give me shade in summer,
bare branches in winter,
and texture all year round.
I’m also thankful for the lovely rural views I enjoy, I like looking at my neighbours highland cattle with their shaggy coats and long horns. They are quite friendly (being hand-raised) and if I pick some tree tips they will come up and eat them from my hand.
once i was young and lissome,
a tight bud of youth in my prime,
now I am crinkled and shrivelled
as happens to all in time.
once I had velvet complexion,
as soft as the dew of the dawn,
now life’s wear and tear is evident,
in a visage that looks tired and worn.
once all the youth surrounded me,
i was sheltered and shaded, and strong,
now all that freshness has faded,
and yet, some beauty lives on.
© ceenoa
the fierce missing shatters my bones
the gravity of grief unraveling
exposing my marrow
stripping off layers.
and I have to regrow again
the skin and sinew of “now”
that holds me together.
© ceenoa
you cannot see my scars, the silver lines that cover me,
head to toe, heart to soul, completely wrapped.
an irredescent netting, marking the breaking and the healing,
the threads of a new outer that constrain the broken.
© ceenoa
I am thankful that my drive to and from work allows me to see the Sunrise, and the evening light.
TRIGGER WARNING – the following post contains images of my creative escapades. This may cause your brain to fog over, and your eyeballs to pop out. If there is a danger of this – please turn off your screen and stand well back (you don’t want to get smears on your screen). You have been warned!
Today was our second frost this week – I think Autumn is finally talking with Winter.
on the edge of the day there is glorious light
