Today I have been simultaneously skittish and quiet. The only time I felt truly and completely at ease was when I was at my desk, face to the computer and wall, back to my living room and door. Staring at a few thousand words, I could have let the world go. Work is what it is, but it is also what everything else is not.
I am taking my friend Gouri's advice, and saving my rage for the page. And while on the subject, do see what she has to say about a house. Not that it is related, just that when I talk of solace, there are so many other lives that receive none.
A quiet poem for a silent night....
The bay is thick with flecks of white.
The freezing air is honed and thined.
The gulls sleep on the stones tonight,
Wings locked against the prising wind.
With no companion to my mood,
Against the wind as it should be,
I walk, but in my solitude
Bow to the wind that buffets me.
-- Vikram Seth