Yesterday, we lost an hour. Which reminded me that I've lost far more time than that in the last year and a half. Life has been good, if fast and absolutely full. Since my last post, I've traded a dream job (teaching American and British literature at the University of Oslo) for another kind of rewarding challenge: writing full time for a fast-growing industrial technology company in Oslo. I've finished out a successful two-year term as Chair of Democrats Abroad Norway, stepping down to spend my time and energy on the aforementioned job challenge and with my sweet family. Which reminds me: the Hazelnut is nearly four years old. Motherhood has morphed completely in the last couple of years, too. At some point, I will write more about all these things.
Meanwhile, I decided to stop messing around and kickstart this wonderful old blog again. With poetry. It's April, which means Poem-A-Day. Something I've never been able to crack. But these days I write lots and lots and lots of long-form texts, often more creative than you'd guess given the industries we serve, but still, long and informative. I miss poetry. So, PAD it is.
After the kid was in bed, and after J picked up his laptop (oh yes, he started a new job within the last 18 months, too), I decided to go for a walk to chase the light in the sky. It hasn't been a terrible winter by any standards, but the sadness of January and February got to me the same way they always do. I desperately need this sunshine and will brave the near-freezing evening temps to stick with it. Here's my PAD 01:
late light
an excess of darkness
poured from the sky
and muddled the river
murking it black
so that it tumbled between
its bare banks
silent and devoid of the light
i expect to be reflected there.
the sky is milky white
and wretchedly cold, bare
as the branches that reach
and scratch against it
shivering and aware, caught
wishing to be clothed.
i am not the only sinner
out tonight, soles crunching loudly
over the last of the gravel.
we know our trespasses
this late light sky and i.
water rolls and spills and falls
smooth and cold, soundless
as black silk pulled back
over a waiting hip and thigh.
blood rises
and my eyes follow
the chilled wind up to find
the slivered green beginnings
of Spring so small and tight
you might miss them
in this late light, poised
and still, awaiting the inevitable.
I sincerely hope I'll be back tomorrow. Lots of luck to my fellow PAD participants! I know I need it most of all.