Evening is drawing in. The water has settled into calm stillness. Tonight the warm hearts of my sisters in wildness stir new possibilities. We are seeking a kind of wild time dreaming. Then one of them reminds me of Dawna Markova's poem. I go back to her later, dipping in at random. Here she is recovering from her operation for . . .
She and I ran around a field excited by our newly wellied feet. We climbed to the top of a hill liberated from tartan skirts and white socks. We went "skating" on a frozen lake in our first corduroy jeans. She fell through the ice. I brought her home, shivering. She and I went climbing trees. We were swinging from an old Elder, hanging upside down . . .
Have just spent 5 wonderful days with not one, not two, but all three of my beautiful sisters. During a grey rainy July they brought such a blast of summer light into my life. Not that there was much sun (!) it was more their own warm glow, their laughing eyes, those common intertwining threads all the way back to our shared . . .