To weather the red storms

I like the weather. And then it changes. I don’t like the weather. And then it changes.

It has been raining for over a week here in England. The rain makes one feel slightly tilted, somewhat wistful. It makes me feel restless. This restlessness is key to who I am. For example I remember an interview with Fiona Apple from 1999 in which she quoted Martha Graham the famous dancer, who famously associated restlessness with divinity.

* * *
Things I may be doing that may be divine have been preoccupying my time.

And in this way I have decided to participate in my restlessness, as I have been doing since I was a little bird.

We ought to look in the mirror, and see what is good within us and celebrate it, not just condemn what is lacking and vulgar inside us, openly.

As a natural nurturer, this draws the young to me, but I wish to be a master and a friend in my latter years, not a parent and a warden.

I do not see how I could not be a strict parent.


I stepped out of the nuclear unit because I wanted to dance on the global stage. What a relief to discover others there. Swans, Canadian geese, blackbirds, garden jays, all part of the dance.

I am a red breasted robin, and what I actually reach the naked eye cannot see. It is a state of perpetual paradise, loosely guarded by a woman or a man, or both.

I find harps intimidating. Even more so when angels are strumming them.

I visit your garden. I eat seeds you leave out for me.

I bathe in birdbaths filled with rainwater and what are left of the cherry blossom petals.

My song is a beautiful song.


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