Made it to six hundred yesterday –
afforded a chance to go soft in the
middle, a pause to reflect on the
way things have been; all those
recent poems have been conceived
amid a growing backdrop of urgent
preparation – as of today
the wedding is just a week away.
It’s been an amazing scene, the energy
has had to have come from somewhere
or from something rather rare and
special; the only other time I can recall
sustained creative pressure was when
we first arrived here. And there was
ample reason to urgently impress our
stamp upon the wilderness back then.
The house has never been so festive in all
its fifty years – it wears a smile as broad
as the orchard, and the new paint states
its muted appreciation. The concrete tanks
are also painted, all full, brimming with
the same expectancy reflected in the air,
shimmering with the sunlit leaves
singing their songs of welcoming.
© 23 March 2007, I.D. Carswell
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