Moon glows incandescent, a monster eye.
My eyes are moths.

Listen closely.
Pay attention.
There are words inside you
they are trying to get out.
They will bubble at the most inopportune times,
when no pen and paper is at hand.
Listen closely, pay attention
and they'll percolate perhaps,
and bubble up again
and maybe, perhaps,
you can catch those bubbles
without
bursting them.

I was disappointed when the electricity came back.
The magic of flicking a switch and Lo! There is light! was doubly
triply
exponentially
more magic than it had ever been.
To watch television, to cook on the stove, to turn on a heater - magic, marvellous, miraculous.
Yet I was disappointed.

That's the end of the apocalypse camping, I thought, sadly. I will miss these days.

Do you appreciate the wonder of a switch that makes all the luxuries you consider necessities work?
Do you understand the glory that is a tap that turns on and  provides clean drinking water? Or even more glorious, that allows your toilet to flush?

Appreciate these things. They are not little, they are significant.
Without them life is different.
Have you ever walked to a well and returned with water, to drink, to clean yourself with, to wash your clothes?
Do you know how much water it takes to wash clothes, or how HEAVY water is?

I spent a mere two weeks without electricity, and perhaps
another week with no running water
and each day was consumed with those tasks
I normally considered arduous
but which took so little effort, I came to realise,
when compared to a more third world lifestyle.

"I want a drink of water - I shall turn on a tap."
versus
"I want a drink of water. Are the water bottles full? Has the water truck been yet? Or must I walk to the well? Where is a clean vessel? There are none, and no hot water to wash them in."

Without a thought I turned on switches, ran water from the tap, and consumed all the niceties of a life so **** rich
in luxury I took for granted.

Two short weeks without taught me to appreciate what I have.
Some days, now, I forget to marvel
at my easy, privileged life, but I make myself remember
apocalypse camping,
which was challenging and difficult, but satisfying in a way my life no longer is.

I miss those days, I value their lessons.

I would mutter and complain at carrying water back to my house, at cooking over the open fire - this was my life for two weeks.
Not forever, not always,
two weeks only.

Appreciate what you have, for many live a life without, and your own life, already so wealthy,
will be richer for your gratitude.

The start.
A series of days stretches before me,
limitless in their potential,
empty of plans and of need to be anywhere
except for where I want.
Blank canvases to be made over in the images I choose,
empty pages waiting for me to write the story,
heaven.
But one day shall follow the next
and that seemingly infinite potential will shut down as the days march
and potential becomes reality
becomes memory
and all too quickly I will be at
the end.

Far worse than the lies is
the inference
you think me stupid enough
to believe.

Assume nothing.
All you understand and have known to be so
only exists momentarily
and is subject to change without notice.

Assume nothing,
the very ground beneath your feet,
apparently solid and secure and immutable,
is in fact filled with water
which will rise to the surface
turning streets to rivers
in less time than it takes to make a cup of tea.

Assume nothing.
All things are subject to change.
The ground beneath your feet,
usually so predictable and reliable,
can be filled with rushing seismic energy
which bucks and shakes the surface of the planet under you
displacing energy that tears through you
and everything else
dissipating and leaving behind
- amongst the after shocks
and piles of brick -
pulls and stretches in the warp and weft of everything.

Assume nothing. Be unafraid.

You got me into hot water,
changed the substance of my being
and ate me up,
cleaned me out.
What remains is
an empty shell
surrounded by crumbs.

my sense of timing is highly sophisticated
i can sense exactly how much time a task will take
i will start it when i have
exactly
that much time
left

i will Spring into being
sap will rise
buds will form and burst open
blossom will pop up like popcorn, like magic,
in an instant
bare skeleton branches, all hard and bony now
will become soft petal clouds
my world will be a Japanese cherry blossom print
it will be so

i drive home
on automatic
and am surprised when I arrive
at my destination

i eat dinner
gratefully
savouring food prepared
by hands not my own

i write this
feeling the warmth of the fire on my back
hearing the splashes and giggles of kids in the bath
surrounded by the chaos created by two busy children
enjoying the luxury of ten precious minutes TO MYSELF
before the chaos swirls about me again
and know that i
am
content

content in this moment
replete, satisfied, pleased beyond measure

i am the
contents
of each moment which moves through me and through which i move

my girl has a toy puppy
it's a REAL pup to her
this week she is called Cutie
except for on Tuesday when she was known as Philemina

Cutie is small and plump and silky plush
soft brown and black
fat
and comforting
her plush has stayed remarkably plush despite all the loving

'She is so soft and silken!' i exclaim
'Yes,' says my girl, 'Except for this spot.'
and she shows me the place on Cutie by her front leg
where the fur is strange and you can feel
the plastic that binds her plush

'That's ok,' i say, 'We all have our strange spots.'
'I have one here,' says my girl
and she shows me the spot by her hairline
where the hair is a bit strange and you can feel
the skin that binds her muscle and blood inside

'We are the same,' smiles my girl
'Me and Cutie have our strange spots.'

i love my girl

i get up early
which surprises me, as for years i was a right slugabed
but not now

now i get up before the dawn chorus starts
before Sol makes an appearance
before everyone else gets up

before real life begins

the days i love best
are spent
doing nothing at all and everything at once

my feet celebrate the removal of my shoes
my barking dogs quieten to soft whimpers
subsiding into relieved sighs
and sweet squirmings