Here I am not merely a jumping jack flash silhouette on the beach in Pekapeka, Aotearoa!

A car through a wired fence, in the pretty hood thinking of vehicles as they dissolve in dreams.  Where does the metal go to.....  When will they utilise products that recycle themselves?  I think of all of those cars piling up at 4am as I awake and my feet feel cold as cold can be and the trees in the skylight are immersed in nights darkness not quite fully as they are lit by the white shimmer of the moon.  I dream I dream I dream.  I now have an oak necklace given to me by Cat Duval.  She is brilliant.  The piece she gave to me represents a seed.  Here it grows into what I know not.  I must write, share, feel, be..... It is a good thing.

This winter I hope all begins to unravel to reveal a secret beauty that I missed in autumn.  It was there.  Perfectly it was there.  Even when it wasn't.  I knew it always was.  Sheer stocking beauty hole rip not in tights, keep mind unladered and unsaddened.  Optimistic even when drear...... my dear.... I want to hold your hand and to laugh again and again with you at your side splitting jokes as the winter sets in.  Even though we may not.  I am happy to dream.

I cried, then I laughed and all went bright as the leaves rustled in the shimmer of new moon face brighter than ever during the eclipse, which we did not see from our side of the world.  I began to feel many things and all came to the surface with work, play, time....... It felt right, wrong, real and then I decided not to analyse any more, to let it all be.  I said another silent prayer and then I set my head down to dream dream dream. 

Dream with me tiny little oaks, like children that survive, thrive even when the metal cars pile up.  They find themselves released from their cages.  Little bright parrots do fly away and lark.  It feels good does it not in the late day summer sun as the trees rustle rustle rustle.  I am fond of the summer, but mostly in Wellington for a good part of the year it is cold and in between the hot season with rain lashings and gentle wind breath swinging to sun sparks in autumn and drear dear rain that comes and goes like hot flushes that render themselves cold in spring.  Yet we are all like chicks, fluffy, unruly and excited by the wind.  We find all of the cobwebs blown out revealing our creative selves.  We go for gold and the gold shines like the coal they shone up to burn.  Resource to create warmth, to create your electricity....... Longevity...... lies in the true beauty.  Please keep showing this to me I pray...