Telling you what it is like this early morning is to give it life beyond me. The body clock of the two thirty is like poetry really. Not that I have always seen it that way. I had gone to bed thinking of a place. There is a river that runs through it. We proudly pitched our new tent one summer to sit by this river. A chance to catch the butterflies doing their butterfly thing. A chance for us to catch our breath on books and simplicity and one pot cooking. The river, even in summer, is bracing cold. You know the moment you jump in, there will be friction even in the delicious smoothness of the water. It is like life and the annoyances and the rubbing against the ideas and the men and women who act big and think small. I think I will practise walking into that river. Stop the brace and just enter, letting go, and watch the poetry of the dragon flies skimming across doing their dragon fly thing.
Rick Frame, 2021