Monday, 12 August 2013


 It's an unsettling time, clearing and sorting Miriam's bedroom, her Scotch Chest, her large cupboard which holds photo albums as well as boxes with old photos.  And then there are the coats we have gathered over so many years.  Some quite worn, but oh so comfortable.  I ask myself, how many coats does an old woman need?

 No delicate branch acrobatics for me either while I'm trying to balance my time, appointments, working on Tipping the Balance, a novel for young adults.  It's good to be back 'inside' that historical novel again. 

During day time the kereru is busy in the tree outside my study.  It's wonderful to see the huge bird, trying to balance itself on fragile branches.  The flowers aren't out yet and I hope our neighbour won't cut down this safe haven for birds.
How I love watching this gorgeous creature with its proud chest and delicate colouring.


 At night I look out of my window and see the new moon.  It moves so fast within my dark window, 'sailing' from the upper right hand corner to the middle left.  It inspired me to write this simple poem.

Closer to the moon

The new moon hangs outside my window.
A bleached pumpkin,
peeled, cut, sliced,
processed into soup or stew,
added to an avocado salad.

Do astronauts think of white pumpkin soup
while occupying orbits?

Do they think of wives in kitchens on earth,
taking kids to school,
putting pumpkin pie in lunch boxes?

I wonder whether thoughts of fear and failure still circle them
while being closer to the moon?
Are there racing thoughts of urgent bills to be paid,
of fragile relationships that need mending?

Perhaps they too dream of pumpkins growing
while staying on the ground.

HH 2013