light and words

words: I will write about a series of lovely separate days 

Courtenay: it is a gorgeous day. i let my mind fill itself, let the Autumn sun leach in and bloom. 

i go straight into the cold morning, bare my bed-warm feet and let the sodden maple leaves cling, my breath thick and foggy. the light through the red and gold leaves excites me, childhood christmas excitement, my fingers jittering. we are at Janet's house, millet and quinoa porridge is soaking as i wait for elsie to wake, the glacier in the distance is still hiding, but it's there. 

we were having a goat day, a slow day, a nothing day. 

Vancouver: writing. a day alone, i enjoy a slow morning with eggs. the blue sky seems bluer against the october leaves, tiny black birds form a murmuration way up high. the crisp air seeps not unpleasantly through my wool layers. I have opted for a merry ensemble of yellow and blue wool items. vampire weekend is my bus ride playlist, this is a jolly morning. i bounce straight to Revolver for coffee, hands-down best cup that has crossed my lips since leaving melbourne. the room fills in waves, spilling off the sun-drenched street to perfect their morning with a fresh brew. tartan shirts and beards fill cup after cup, smooth and sure. the record player (yes) spins nostalgia tunes and the bench files with coffee-of-the-day. familiar and inspiring at the same time, raw wood and glass, the hiss of boiled water steaming hard. pleasant men in plaid shirts swiftly craft coffee, smooth and practised. i settle with my latte, computer open on the grainy-wood booth table, a bit of journalling, then i begin to let my words flow thickly from my fingers. I'm buzzing with creative juice, burning with thoughts too fast and exciting for my mind to stew, it's warm and humming in here, a hundred words cross paths over my head in a noisy map. the thrum is a comfort, a blanket to fold myself under, safe. everyone is happy today, the sun is out, coffee is hot and the crisp mountains cut fresh against the bluer than blue sky. i remember this morning. the 25th of the tenth.

8.23am

waking to a wedge on the curtain, 

a slab of light against the grainy calico, creamy and mesmerising through woken eyes.

familiar limbs stir as i turn over, warm skin to skin. 

- (an excerpt from a bigger poem for dad's birthday, changed slightly)

Gabriola: slept a little late, the sky is sharp with blue, elsie and i brave the frosted deck barefoot. tiny birds whisper in the stillness. a day for happenings. 

getting sleepy, i'll write more on Gabriola and Courtenay and life soon. x