When did we stop skipping?
When did we stop thinking that skipping was a legit option and preferred to walking or running?

When did the bounce and joy of a skip stop being the mode of choice?

And why don't we follow Millie and Trish? They could run a workshop: after service we could meet at the far end of the corridor, hold hands, and try to match their joy. But no matter how many lessons we had, I think we'd struggle to keep pace with Trish. (Though Millie would give it a good try.)

I'm still not clear why we stopped, but I think it's something to do with innocence. That and a bucket load of indifference.

I think I should start practising for the workshop; I don't want to make a fool of myself.

Some songs have a girl's name.

And I wonder
what came first?
The song or the title?
The passion or the girl?

I expect it was the latter,
followed by the sorrow.

And I expect the words
were found much later.

My marriage was never a locked shackle,
nor a weight that dragged me down to the depths.
No, the shackle in want of unlocking

was the mis truth that it was all of me.
She did not inhibit nor distract me,
I did that enough by my own poor choice

to turn and reconsider my self worth
by a fresh measure, one that before long
proved short of the task.

That lesson became a truth and a key.

The coy moon left us fumbling
wandering in the sleepless warmth
transformed by night sweats
and wet despair
into fractious infants crying
for relief from the night fires.

Douse me now!

Still yourself, raise your eyes
and with all your waning strength
with all your weary mind
with every ounce
of your weighed down heart -
Lift up your soul. Lift up your song.

Place both feet on the Rock
in this most holy place,
where your God exults over you
with loud singing,
where burdens are lifted
by Christ's outstretched arms -
and LIFT your song.

And when your heart is heavy,
when your arms feel leaden -
take a breath, fix your eyes on him,
hear his song -
and LIFT with your legs.

Take your bible out.
Thaw at room temperature
with a bedside prayer.

By morning you'll find
every page will have seffused
ineffably.

The sacred have kept
their biblical pro-portions.
Savoir each mouthful.

All your 5 a day.

It didn't matter,
for he could smell the sea
and thought it just enough
to season the past,
the remembrance,
slowly curling
in the flames at his feet.