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Singing as the Darkness Lifts 11 09 2023 (#SingingAsTheDarknessLifts 2)

Singing as the darkness lifts, 11 09 2023:

The air is warm and is scented with a tinge of pink tea rose. A crow on an aerial has the silhouette of the robin from the cake decoration box. Inside there is gentle comfort in the scent of home sleep. 

I am noticing Autumn... garden spiders are making large webs from bush to car wing mirror and large spiders have been spotted in the house as well as on pavements during evening walks. A conker placed inside the front door pleased me because I consider the year that I put them in many corners of the house to be the year that very few spiders entered. And then, just after admiring it and its possible positive impact I hoovered it up by accident. I may revisit my conker hunting experience this week.

The week is full as I begin my coaching course. Last week I had my orientation meeting and engaged in pre-reading and this week I will engage with Part 1. I am feeling excited and a little nervous about my new learning and developing my skills with new people.

One of my favourite poems, 'I Hate You', which was an absolute pleasure to write, found a home at The Broken Spine last week and I was delighted to see it in such good company.

There was also the gift of Afternoon Tea to be enjoyed and choosing the second Friday in September seemed just the right thing to do. Glorious weather and a memory made in celebration of new beginnings, good people and kindness.

Here's to noticing the small things and finding joy, and to noticing what makes our hearts sing as the darkness lifts...

 

'Afternoon Tea' and 'Ronnie Jumps for Joy after Afternoon Tea'

 

This Was Once a Good Poem

 

but it has eaten cheese and pickle rolls for a week now

and it can’t work out why the vitamins aren’t working.

It rocks in the chair until its eyes are too tired to see

and has scared itself with thoughts of Autumn spiders

under glasses in the hallway.

It is wondering if it is true that conkers in corners

keep arachnids at bay

and is now standing in the dark

sniffing last year’s horse chestnuts

desperate to find their scent.

Originally published by Ink, Sweat and Tears

 

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