Strange thinking wrapped in newspaper just landed in the middle of my kitchen table. My first thought was fish and chips: not that I have ever eaten fish and chips out of newspaper but my mother has.
Soft light is enchanting so is the curve of a willow branch. Not so strange thinking.
Today, the wind went to sleep and an old branch of family was born.
Joy the size of the sun swallowed me whole and unlike Jonah I did not question. I have written into existence a fictional character, he bears my Grandfather’s name. The very Grandfather I never did touch, see or hear.
How strange life can be, for today I wrote to a cousin, the daughter of (the second) daughter of the Grandfather I never met in the flesh, but I have always blessed, for he gave me my Mother.
in and out of seasons and fashion
a little girl sits on her father’s shoulders
this is the one and only memory she has of him
not so strange after all.