Even later in life and minus a clearly not really needed internal organ as of two weeks ago. Many other changes since my last post, including some home improvements - but still much more to do - and ongoing changes on the work front. We are approaching white water at present - a takeover on April 1st - how apt - and, since it will be Maundy Thursday, we will probably be crucified the following day. I feel safe in the middle of the raft but have concerns for my colleagues clinging to the sides with all their might. Apologies for the mixed metaphors. There is, on reflection, a tenuous link - in the words of Leonard Cohen, "Only drowning men can see him on his lonely wooden tower". [Possibly paraphrased from "Suzanne"].
At last spring colours begin to emerge from beneath the frost and recent snow, croci and the green shoots of daffodils.
A river of thoughts snakes through a strange landscape under a pale moon, and that river is me: Sometimes deep and fast, sometimes slow and dreamy, with secret currents that can warm or chill. Spend a while on my banks and dangle your feet in my waters. I am also the snake and the moon. And maybe a poet.
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