Inner worlds

The apple blossom is out and gorgeous.  Each bud is dark pink when shut, pale pink when opening and almost white when wide open inside.  The grass underneath has petal confetti dropping onto it in the slight movement of air.  I am here without a coat, thinking of the adventures we will have today.  The petals still drop, and will do whether I watch or not, whether I notice or just sit here in my own thoughts.  What a miracle that is, that I can inhabit two worlds at the same time, the inner and the outer, each one lapping at each other like the ocean’s edge, slurping and sucking and breaking and boiling, mixing spirit and thought and colour and shape, taking it in, rolling it about, rounding the edges, playing and spraying it into new patterns.  The bluebells blue haze now decorates part of my marrow, the breeze plays ripples on my spleen, and the apple blossoms, they dive straight into my heart. 

My Jenny-dog lives there all the time, walks through my fields of heart carelessly and flops down in her warm corner with little legs next to her nose and fluffy ears falling about her face.  Then she sighs with contentment.  I guess she will stay there even when she is gone here, my world is peopled with memories.  And I can change them and use them, I can hug my Dad who I didn’t hug enough when he was alive, I can talk to him and put things right.  I can find the dark corners that scare me and bring them into the light.  And that little girl, the frightened me that likes to yell loudly at little things, the one I used to try to shut out so she yelled louder still, I can welcome and bring into the warmth and fullness of my life now and see her learn to smile.