Monday, 4 June 2012


It’s early; I’m sitting in the bed in the van.

Last night, as the fire outside died, I fell asleep to the sound of a spring breeze amongst trees; it was like waves at the ocean shore.

Now it is raining and I am lying here listening to the rhythm of her insistence on the metal roof.
Inside i am safe, snug and warm.

Outside the ashes of the fire are washing away and dry cracked earth is celebrating the end of an enforced thirst releasing a heady scent of fecundity.

I have tea, a candle and a good book (Jonathan Trooper).

Hmm, sounds ok.

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