& In The Endless Pause There Came The Sound Of Bees

This week was for dreaming about paper planes.
...for The Magnetic Fields.
...for getting a new job.
...for Michael Steven;

The Portrait
The day hardened with every sigh.
Something old returned -
Something new was forgotten.

Finally, we had reason to be still:
leaning on our tiny secrets
as if they were about to escape.

Port Waikato
Bone white -
her bare arms bent
at the elbow:

inside the soft flesh there,
as shadow. She digs her heels
into the dark sand:

her face tilted towards
the sun: her wet hair falling
wherever it chooses -

over the stones hurled
at seagulls by children howling
from the dunes: beyond

bright lines of endless breakers
where mist sits unreal
& refuses to lift.

...for finding fitting answers to unspoken questions.




...for being not heartbroken, for getting out of bed bright and early, for working hard, for doing anything to be happy, for knowing that Spring is on its merry way, for coming home and for all things hopeful.


Noah and the Whale - Blue Skies