I hunt the house to find migrating gnats

I tap my fingers on the table top
I can’t keep still and  some days I just hop
I shout coarse words to let off steam  in bed
I wear a mobile phoneme on my head

My eyes roll round the room like  marbles rare
I  levitate as I dye my own hair
I  study linguistics   as I pray
I light the fire with matchsticks every day

I’m losing weight by running up  big bills
I eat my food  and  visit  flour mills
I wash my clothes by  hand and dry them flat
I hunt the house to find  migrating gnats

By bedtime I am glad to  lie down flat
So they awarded me an Aegrotat

Sunday blues

The air feel still and cool and nothing moves
The birds  have disappeared and do not sing.
Life  feels distant, love’s in interlude

As we age  when health  and wit we lose
What new  learnings may our own life  bring?
The air feel still and cool and nothing moves

Are we present to  the life we choose?
Attention must be paid to each small thing
Life  feels distant,  heart feels unrenewed

Like the dough we must be left to rise
The hidden power of yeast the flour shall wring
Minute yet powerful,  how the grains collide

Hidden in the dark ,what myriad eyes
Insects scurry, wasps to nettles cling
Life  feels distant, lovers lost are rued

 

Now  we feel the breath of a small wind
A whispering voice, the holy dove descends
The air feel still and cool and nothing moves
Consoled by  darkness, we await its clues.