It wasn’t the most productive weekend. I got some weird flu bug that created the most painful immune response I’ve ever endured. That lasted from Wednesday to Saturday. I was out of bed on Saturday, but I wasn’t doing much but reading and writing. I did get a lot of both done, so that was good. But I was not in the garden at all. Sunday was 40°F and raining hard, which I don’t consider ideal gardening weather. But I also had to get all the grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning done on Sunday so I could get back to work on Monday. Ergo nothing happened at all, except all that.
However, this is the sort of thing that happens when I get the spring flu… call it art for art’s sake…
the river
autumnal mists veiled sight dazzling our gaze casting gauzy golden dawnlight to burnish maples all arrayed for the dance of death and you murmured still waters reflect admit no alteration to time but lap stones in cold memory we were here divided by the river spellbound under september’s sun reaching for halcyon naivety wanting no part of winter to come but neither dared the water i gave you my summers my springs and bright beginnings you left the harvest in the fields as the river slowly rolled away and so we remained twain afraid to dive into unseen depths your path led out of the gorge while i wandered the murky banks looking but not caught in a dream of fall refusing the call of snowflakes and future sowings and here i am still by the waters waiting for nothing for i do not want you back but i cannot break the spell of time’s glamour
©Elizabeth Anker 2023
By My Solitary Hearth 