I have just made a major move the west coast in the western Cape, South Africa. It’s about an hour and a half out, so it’s not that far, but it what a difference it is living here.
Sleepy town life
Traffic only whispers in the morning
Birds fly free all day
To play in the promise that tomorrow still stays the same
I sit and wonder about old city life’s bitterness
I sit and ponder on schedules and deadlines and time
When it has no authority here.
I sit with Worry,
Time’s cruel friend.
I sit and miss life’s cruel games.
There’d be rules and structure and a place for me to play
Now there’s none of that
Just me and birds and words
And ties to tomorrow’s waiting game today.
I hope the poem makes sense. Let’s call it a draft 🙂
I haven’t written much on my memoir this last few days as I have been so busy with the move. It’s been crazy and I think the sudden stop has left me feeling strange. I’m left trying to catch my breath when the world over here has stood absolutely still. So I look crazy. Right?
I feel crazy.
What’s even more strange is that some of the plants here, the birds, and the land between places reminds me of the Free State where I grew up. I become so nostalgic every day, yet I haven’t written a word.
I’m hoping this will pass.
Here’s to new beginnings.