Tuesday 24 June 2008

Cold feet

Patches of summer:
blink and they're gone.
Waves of lush bloomery

follow the rain.
Varnish my toenails?

No. Socks back on.

Very nearly the farewell toast here, that was. A sharp attack of void, depression. The sharpest ever, maybe. But maybe a brief attack. Like the end of a migraine: before the pain begins to shift, an odd but explicit sensation of small spaces opening between the tight, rigid swellings of the brain, a tentative articulation.


Anonymous said...


Hand-knitted socks?


Dale said...

Oh, Jean. I had no idea. Hugs.


Anonymous said...

Oh, dear Jean, that's why you've been so quiet. Hugs from me too!

Sky said...

it is always such a treat to see the remarkable images you post. your words often leave me deep in thought.

the chill of winter and this, our coldest spring, left me porous, eager to absorb the warm energy of summer's sun. i hope its healing energy warms your deepest places.

leslee said...

Hugs, Jean.

Zhoen said...

Cool toes in chill stream, bracing changes and wriggling digits.

Anonymous said...

Jean, I was hoping your silence was a re-charging of batteries. Big hugs and warm feet and a glass of something zingy, and lots of love.

MB said...

I like this picture very much. It has a quality of absence combined with presence that is intriguing.

I hope you are feeling better.

Rosie said...

there is always another glass of fizz eventually...sometimes you have to wait a little while though...hope it isnt too longxxxxx