i swim and jump and ride in on the waves. the sea does not feel so cold. i dry in the sun against the warmth of a granite wall. the couple next to us pull a large cafetiere filled with steaming coffee out of a wicker picnic basket. breakfast on the beach.
sun pours in through the studio window. a hare speeds past my feet. i try to see its eyes but so fast - it's gone.
two waking butterflies have found my indoor garden. they unfurl stiff wings. opening and closing and shaking over and over. one flies to the window. i rest a finger beneath it and it perches there, wings outstretched. i stand in the doorway and hold my hand to the sky. an ascending spiral of orange against an intense blue.
soaking in the sun after hibernation.
yesterday i planted crocuses. i dug a bulb sized hole and unearthed an inkwell. today i run it under the tap and see it still contains a dried pool of ink. buried under my floor for many many years. the glass is iridescent and shimmers with a rainbow in this february sun.
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