Copyright Petru J Viljoen

A headful of Virginia Woolf and one does then think of Ingrid Jonker too. Both of whom walked into the water. I wear my mother’s jersey. The pockets are convenient. Getting back into bed on account of the cold fishing out the stone I put in it to work on. Intake of breath and I wasn’t meditating. Taking a moment then bending down to work. There’s some rough bits; need smoothing over.

a cold season’s dawn

walking, a pidgeon swoops by

in delight of flight