It has rained overnight
Pregnant with raindrops
Releasing their burden to gravity
Tumbling into the sea below
Fresh water colliding with salty
Skittering over balconies
We all lay asleep
At least I did
I have never slept as soundly
As I do out here
In this enormous cradle
Rocking me gently
The soft creaks of a structure that floats
Art cascading from light fittings
To floor coverings
A wrap around gallery
I wander now while all are still abed
Poetry is alive
Dancing on block toes
Tutu disappearing around the corner
Coffee a siren
That has me following her aroma
Around and around
Up and down
How do we float, yet carry so much weight?
I thought only light leaves and insects remained buoyant
Carried along the surfaces of water
But one can have heavy thoughts
And not sink
Simply apply air to the space around them
Lots and lots of art
And never imbibe, remain dry
For it is when all that is heavy
That things begin sinking
So in order to fly, to dance and float
Copy the boat
*always poet (used incorrectly as a verb – I’m taking creative licence) to poet (in my way)is to journal a thought in a lighter way.
I met my fellow writers at sea yesterday morning, and such an inspirational meeting it was. I am so looking forward to learning more today.
My niece, who I am travelling with won $1000 at Bingo when we played for fun in the afternoon. After a terribly unlucky year for her, she couldn’t believe her luck had turned.
And there is another metaphor there. We don’t trust luck when it returns after a long sojourn, sauntering in like a seagone sailor. It is an infusion of wonder all at once. Difficult to take in.
As we watched the musical stage show last night, lights bouncing, tunes pumping, I looked across at her beaming smile and thought my cheeks really haven’t hurt like this for awhile either.
It does a human wonders to spend several days in a row simply smiling
And learning to leave the past where it belongs, behind us