When the back is aching
And the mind fatigued
If I can’t find a tree
I head for the floor
Back to a wall
Or stretched out
Along the timber
There is something solid
Comforting
About being on the floor
You can’t slip any deeper
Fall over
It is hard and flat and long
To lie upon
Let the kinks and sprains
Of daily pressure
Sink and seep away
Stare at the ceiling
The confounded web
A spot
Where the magpie came inside
And couldn’t get out again
Till I threw a jumper over it and carted it back out to the garden
But don’t think about that now
Close the eyes
You can’t fall
You’re held
Even if you roll
You’re held
There is something so comforting
About the floor
*do you feel me? Or is this weird I don’t know – I just really like my polished timber floor. It’s Rosegum – hardwood, beautifully coloured. Expertly secret nailed by my husband and scratched here and there by life, the dog, the kids when they were younger. It glows.
We have a long hallway that is very long – all timber I can run from my kitchen around to my bedroom and I do that quite often, or back the other way – if you’re in socks you can slide.
And I do that too.
Getting older is a given but…I said to my son the other day I wonder if I’ll still run down this hallway when I’m old – I think I will as I can’t imagine ever not doing it.
Photo is one I took on a photography project called “Shearing Time” and it’s in an album on my Flickr stream [link front page of the blog down the bottom]
Shearing work is hard on the back.
