the last day of three
liquidscapes
a quiet corner in the garden
blackbird nestled like a duck on grass – soaking in sunshine
birdsong, flies spinning in dappled beams
water and light
the cosmos
is here
as am I
processing my thoughts
they float through my mind
this writing is not the thing
but merely the reflection
deep below the surface things are stirring
what has been seen
been heard
been felt
will take weeks to assimilate
to saturate my work
soothe my aching brain
sink in
Carolyn Black 