Each morning after language class I find my place among friends to work and write, sometimes in a hotel, café-bar, a sunny bench, quiet library, or at home behind a standing desk. Today seaside in a hotel I dwell, the owners usher me to a gorgeous sea-view, passing me fresh citrusy liquid. Its sweetness mixes with the sea—rolling, washing , swishing, whitening the grey-teal, then darkening deeper blue with rumble, roll and rain-clouds.
This winter is softly leaving. Clouds and dim winter days making way for an increased trickle of solid liquid light. Today those winter colours merge with the spluttering sky, silently the splattering rain runs in streams down the glass.
I sit finding silence and a presence of peace, I speak few words, asking you to speak. I forget where I am, forgetting me and finding you. It’s hard, I say, to live your way, to deepen love, to refresh grace. So much of me has other ways which make dull, difficult days. I’ve forgotten already the simplicity of “follow”, how the simple things rain, drench and soak in my soul. To love my neighbor, to love each stranger, to turn my heart towards you.
Light breaks soaking weather, the salted sky now a soothing green-blue. Low tide will soon arrive, seagulls rest on radiant sand. The shore pebbles churn, I hear them from a window slightly open, endless waves making nature’s music. Thousands of tiny smoothing hard-to-soft crashes …