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Herons and poetry

Having something of a down day today, so bear with me. I've taken two calming pills and am hoping it's the hormones. I keep getting all tearful for no real reason, sigh ... Ah well, no change there then. I blame it on the flow writing I started doing today - which is basically when you start writing and just jot down whatever comes up without thinking about it. Actually I found the whole exercise quite upsetting really - perhaps you have to be strong to do this kind of thing? Or maybe it just needs getting used to. I'm doing it as preparation that's been suggested in my new online poetry course that starts in January. They've also given us a sneak preview of the homework for Weeks 1 and 2, so I've been fiddling around with surreal poetry games and childhood memories. Something of a tricksy combination then ...

Oh, and here's the poem I've been discussing in this week's poetry group. It's a series of linked haikus:

Silence

First of all, seek this:
absence in your outward breath,
a folded wingtip

waiting for the sun.
The silken silence of air
dances on your skin

and you fall, dreaming,
into soft pathway shadows.
Stars and still music.

On the plus side, I've been contacted by my editor for A Stranger's Touch so I'm looking forward to working with her to get that story ready for publication. At the same time - deep, deep sigh - the contract for The Hit List that I sent off on Monday has been delivered back to me as the ruddy UK post office can't understand the concept of "To" and "From" on the address label. When I've stopped being upset and tearful about it, I imagine I'll find it funny. I'm just odd about contracts - once I've signed them, I want them to wing their way back to the publisher, not come limping home to me. I shall ask Lord H to take it in tomorrow and see if they'll try delivering it to the correct people this time. Hey ho.

Yesterday, I walked round campus and was treated to the magical sight of a grey heron on the side of the pond. Quite close too. As it was raining, I was the only person there, which was great. I watched it for a while and, after it flew off, a rather large fish began to jump out of the pond almost as if it was dancing. All very strange. There are sharks in them thar waters, you know.

Meanwhile, today I've had a glorious Clarins massage from the stand-in therapist (my usual one is off sick, poor thing). All incredibly relaxing. I even tried to do some clothes shopping afterwards, but just couldn't bear it once I'd walked into a shop. So had to walk out again. I don't know what it is - but I can't seem to buy any new clothes at the moment. Every time I try, I am overcome by despair and panic. Lord knows what's going on in my head - but if you see a spaced-out woman wandering round the streets looking distinctly threadbare, that'll be me. Please offer me a blanket and send me home.

Anne's website - envious of fish and herons who don't need clothes ...

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Some might say herons are

Some might say herons are poetry.