hello old friend,
you, who comes around each week and reminds me of a fresh start,
a begin-again,
and I, who feels so tired,
much more than usual -
I feel a bit like the hydrangea bush, my colours fading,
Still recovering from a cold and night wakefulness,
and finding myself flat
mugs of tea made and half-drunk,
emails half-written,
too much banana cake eaten,
lists forgotten,
fuzzy, slow -

but we keep moving,
we have to
you and I -

and relief is in the sound of rain early in the moring,
the smell on handmade soap on my skin,
lavender, sage and clay...
a slow tap of knitting needles,
a letter in the box,
laying down for a rest -
and later, as my son stirs beside me,
he looks at me with those big blue eyes
and smiles.

and I think, I can do this