This moving forwards is for the birds. I woke this morning to a heart rebellion. Against the incessant need to move on. Clear seeing that there are no straight lines into a future. Even looking back, memories are diverted, unseeing. I want to be more like a tree. Stay put. The earth and us one. We can have a commanding position of sea and sky, you close enough to whisper to and, at night, spot distant stars. Like this, there are no contours to follow then. No ships to sail. No roads to travel. Only a presence of being here, where there can be a rooting, a flowering – that made me laugh – and travellers can sit under our shade as they zig zag, looking for answers. Until they discover new questions yet to be asked. In the stillness, sitting amongst the roots, fallen leaves, some kind of awakening. Red robins singing on winter branches, the sun hanging low, colouring the sea blood red.
© 2021 Copyright Rick Frame