Beez are buzzing in my head and pain is starting to settle on my forehead. I feel the flu coming on. And just as I was about to go warm up on the front verandah and read in the sun, the lawnmower man has arrived. I think a lay down on the lounge is the order of the afternoon. As other countries know that winter starts with the equinox or solstice or whateveritis, I know winter has started when the cat suddenly gets very affectionate and likes to lie on top of me. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking he actually likes me, but the reality is that he is just a heat-seeking body.
I have been meaning to post properly for a while, probably an inaugural ‘planner’ post to appease the Filofax gods. Notice I didn’t capitalise the word god. The jury’s still out since my sister died. I am rambling. Yes, I’m definintely coming down with the Dreaded Lurgy.
My sole reason for popping back for a bit was to share what I did on the last New Year’s Eve.
As I look back upon the months gone by,
and breathless, contemplate a loved one’s end,
I ponder on the grief that makes me cry
and wonder how it is we humans mend.
For lessons in humanity we learn,
When one we treasure leaves this earthly plane,
When we are left to in the darkness yearn,
We realise that ALL humans suffer pain.
The soul then takes a breath and comprehends
that right beside us, if we are aware,
are those who’ll always be there, our lov’d friends,
who gently nurture us through deep despair.
It’s love and cherished friendship that transcends,
The burden of humanity we share.
Yep. That’s what I did and all I did. I wrote a sonnet. My partying days are over and I have a habit of reflecting and journalling on NYE. Of course the first year of grieving was highest on my mind, and so instead of journalling, out popped a sonnet. I’m quite surprised that I managed it … I didn’t set out to write a sonnet, and after all it’s got all the right and proper requirements of a REAL sonnet (as opposed to my pretend one?). It has the quatrains/octet and sextet and volta and rhyming scheme and iambic pentameter and all. It’s not strictly Petrachan, Spensarian or Shakespearean in form but more of a melding of the three. A Jularian as it were. thyggghb the cat said as it walked across my keyboard in search of my lap. Muwahhahahaha says the Lurgy as it passes through my glands and scratches its way down my throat with rampant rapidity.