It’s the first day of Lent and the big question is…have you started the diet? I know, I know, we all started in the New Year but nobody really stays going all through the dark, wet weather of January or at least I don’t. But that’s over now for another year, today is March 1st and there’s hope of some spring weather, I saw daffodils this morning, and of course we’re all thinking of booking holidays, if they’re not already booked. Hot on the heels of that thought is the dreaded bikini situation, or should I buy a kaftan? Okay, back to the question, to eat or not to eat, or more to the point, what to eat! My fridge is full of vegetables, which look very healthy and colourful, cheery even. However, as I’m a vegetarian, what else would I expect to see in there, right? I look up my SW book to see what else I can have for breakfast…wanting chocolate but it doesn’t seem to be listed in the ‘free foods’ list. Settling for eggs and coffee, I sit at the kitchen table and ponder on the slightly uneasy feeling I have at the moment; I’m finding it hard to tell if it’s anticipation, some premonition of an amazing new experience coming up or just wind. In the end I blame it on the energy of the new moon, which according to the oracles is a time of great change and new growth. I think maybe it’s just a great time to start a diet and do some writing, so I tidy away my breakfast dishes and, staying on the moon theme, I go searching for a poem I wrote a couple of years ago about Moon, the mysterious and wonderfully intriguing light that drives us all a little batty. I hope you like it 🙂
Moonlight by Anne Elizabeth Bevan
Moon tapped me on the shoulder,
With blue tipped steel intent.
My dreams allowed her enter,
My night palace to frequent.
She inched into the shadowed space
Between myself and time.
She planted seeds of malcontent
Behind my dark blue eyes.
I knew her well, I’d let her in.
Glamorous and well formed,
Stiletto heeled, she walked with style;
We tiptoed toward the dawn.
The mist now cleared, the veil upheld.
Myth melted in her perfumed swathe.
I stretched my length and let her go,
And rose with morning grace to bathe.