i love flying there (even as i hate the turbulence) :
first over dry arabia, then, as you head south,
the strange thrill of map names flashing -
kuala lumpur to the left, mogadishu to the right
under the wings a pale dawn breaking on the equator
and a contour of the seychelles through a cloud.

here, wherever you turn, your eyes fill up with sea
cutting you off from the world
just as it links you to it
waves breaking on the corals and the shore
lilting incessantly in your ears



we're back home,
still trying to recover from
one night's lost sleep over the ocean

[+ another one looking for mr cat
who didn't come for his dinner -
thankfully found in the neighbour's garage
the next day with a bad knee]

and all those goodbyes.

i hope you've been well .   .       .



about to lock up the house
and start on the long journey
to our 'other' island in the southern hemisphere

this little girl won't be coming with us
because now she's just a memory
her four and a half year old self has
purposefully prepared a bag
and can't wait to see her cousins.

until soon .   .    .



our days have been crowded with wonderful people
in back yards, old streets, full moon gardens
our paths crossing as some return and others leave.

it's now our turn to pack suitcases and count down hours -
to a subtropical winter in the indian ocean
where k's ancestor from brittany put down roots
about two and a half centuries ago.

and where are you / have you been?


homebound  -  sometimes happily, our moods in harmony
but when the humidity settles and creeps in, we can all fray a little
at the edges. now the clouds are melting into hot rain, the skies rumbling far away   .   .     .

dear v,  thank you, your northernscape postcard cools me down.