Things move in pulses
Of sameness and change
Impatience and overwhelm
Preparation and action
Focus and distraction.
Are you teaching me
about you,
Or about myself?
About my rash curious fingers
Thoughtlessly weeding,
Seeking control,
About my reluctance to sit
and be still
and just let it all roll.
About my ignorance of life
and how to be both divided
and whole
how to move both outwards
and up
And of how to harness the energy
sent from a star
through boundless space.

river park

With an afternoon hour to spare, the fronds entice me to sit in the park and soak up the last of the day’s sun.


Fronds at the pub! At a meeting with the budding local poets group. They didn’t bat an eyelid at the seedlings joining us. 


2 thoughts on “Pulses

  1. Alice, I love this poem- feels like the onto- epistemology of Barad where knowing and being cannot be separate. Like to know the story of the cover for the fronds’ container… very quaint!!

    Liked by 1 person

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