TO HEAL:

Every time we touch down back in England I chuckle, it’s spontaneous,
an involuntary action. Every time we cross the boarder into Essex
the face celebrates with a grin. Last night we sat out on the porch,
resting our ears, listening to the rain, the rich aroma of healing
‘Green’, soothing as calamine lotion after being ravaged, riding the
aircon gauntlet again. Moths dance around the porch light,
a supercharged snail crosses just in front of your feet, a beetle,
black as a hole, hurries back into shadow. We talk low & soft about
nothing & everything. I should be in bed for an early start, but
sitting here listening to your voice in the rain is the best rest
I’ve had in days.

(K)