Last Evening

I walked home from a movie last evening and it started to get dark. The 5 o’clock rush hour was full on with cars streaming past me. Tense faces and horns going reminded me of how lucky I am not to be part of it anymore. I picked some lavender from a bush on the berm and enjoyed the beautiful sunset on a fairly balmy night for Auckland winter time. My mind turned to the poor woman murdered on her way home from the bus stop and I knew I couldn’t take any of the short cuts home via walking tracks as they are poorly lit. It makes me both angry and sad that women feel they cannot safely walk home alone. An Auckland psychologist says that it rarely happens (murder) but i guess the point is, it does happen.

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I am three weeks into my “experiment” now and feel so content and happy in a way I wasn’t expecting. I run out of time 🙂 I was going to go to Bookchat at the library today but got absorbed in learning how to add a Subscribe widget to my blog. I think I have managed it so would be really keen for anyone to test it for me please.

Below is a poem I wrote when I was living in Christchurch. It was a horrible light plane accident and it reminded me yet again of how unpredictable life is and how easily it can be  turned upside down. all the more reason to savour the day. Hope your is enjoyable. FG

Last Evening
Last evening, just at the moment I was sipping
My red wine and stirring the bolognaise for the spaghetti
A light plane was beaming in on the landing strip. A young wife
Was looking for loose change for the meter and buttoning up the jacket
Over the pyjamas of the smallest child.

It was dark and foggy and somehow the plane became lost
And smashed into a field near the airport as I was getting plates
Out of the oven. Amazingly, two of the ten survived and cried
For help all the way through Holmes and some of a new reality TV series.

This morning over a cup of tea, I see all their loved faces,
Smiling at me from the front page and also a picture of the wreckage.
It’s a small city and I recognise two young men from high school.
One was head boy, one was a twin and both had PhD’s.

Their wine is untouched, the meal congealed and cold.
Tomorrow the paragraphs will be smaller. Some funerals
Will be covered. It’s certain an aviation investigation will proceed.
Relatives have been contacted and flowers and cards have been
Laid along the fence at the crash site.

It is raining today and the petals have browned and wilted,
Ribbons escaped and caught on barbed wire, the words blurred
And illegible on the cards. The turbulence is visible, grey cloud
Is racing across a winter sky and it’s hard to tell
Which way up the world is.

 

 

 

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