May—the most beautiful month—is a time of new beginnings, of expectation and hope. The beauty of the first couple of May days has been dazzling: light reflecting off every leaf, petal, blade of grass, and after so many long, dark days, it’s as if someone just flicked the switch. It’s intense and inescapable: the dazzling light illuminating every corner of your soul.
Add the concentration of May’s anniversaries, birthdays and departures
into the mix, and the late sunset becomes a relief. The cool, dark night represents
Half of the first night of May is spent writing and reflecting on the
past four seasons, some of this time so far away now. Temporal and geographical
closeness may be comforting but is only half-real: the essence of those you
love is forever imprinted on your soul. The realisation that this is so
The second half is spent chasing sleep, which alternates between shallow and
deep unconsciousness. Its fractured dreams of a magical place of spires and low
hills, and a story of deep-seated love hidden like the ancient figures beneath
the chalky soil, negate the need to turn back time.
The night has been long and I envy the oblivion-sleep of the children, the
cats, the rest of the world. I have company now: the birds are starting to
chirrup, a deer coughs and a pearly luminescence tinges the horizon. I have
been welcomed into a new day.