something is afoot. i can feel it.
perhaps it's lack of sleep.
i have had two mashed ragged evenings in a row. i shall spare you, oh best beloveds, the details. . .
perhaps it's this telly tubby shiny weather we've been having.
ridiculously shiny green weather where the light splinters on each blade of grass....
and wild yellow flowers lie like fallen stars across the hill.
and burst in wild profusion in my rib cage.
i don't know.
what it is.
perhaps it is simply the cusp of the seasons...heading into an african winter.
it blows me away. every time.
i feel like the wild witch on the hill. my hair is unbrushed and tangled. free flow. i have been chasing cats all night. one is asleep in the fireplace, dangerously close to the last glowing coals. i walked barefoot across the gravel, over the silent courtyard to switch off the generator. and noticed that the moon is nearly full. all squonky. rudely beautiful.
tonight it is fine to be by myself. fine. i am not scared. i just have wild flowers inside. 'as all. 'as all.
i am headed to bed, with a funny book - to listen to the wild kili winter wind rattling the windows.
windows full of stars.
framing the a squonky moon.
sometimes it feels like this.
so toodely old toot, You. bisous, windy witchy ones. X. X. X. j