(Please note: this post was written some weeks ago but not published then as I could not bear to be here amongst my writings)
Summer in upstate New York with the great love of my life has been a scrumptious tactile time marked by brief thoughts of activism and far longer periods of boundless and irrepressible joy. Oh yes it was a tactile time, when ALL of one's senses could explore the depths and heights of love. A time when nature and culinary delights (and even my written words) have retreated into the shadows and given me full rein to concentrate on the light in her eyes and the touch of her breath on my skin in the early morning. For a brief time I have been free to marvel at the form and warmth of her hands and the strength of her shoulders in motion. Aloneness, my ever-present companion in New Zealand, knew it must step back and remain in the shadows for a while. But it was always there. That soft drumbeat of solitude. That place that we both knew from bitter experience that we must keep burning quietly in the far reaches of our individual souls. For early autumn has begun to string the coloured lanterns from the trees. Today Nature is preparing my farewell party. Tomorrow I must leave America.
Summer in upstate New York with the great love of my life has been a scrumptious tactile time marked by brief thoughts of activism and far longer periods of boundless and irrepressible joy. Oh yes it was a tactile time, when ALL of one's senses could explore the depths and heights of love. A time when nature and culinary delights (and even my written words) have retreated into the shadows and given me full rein to concentrate on the light in her eyes and the touch of her breath on my skin in the early morning. For a brief time I have been free to marvel at the form and warmth of her hands and the strength of her shoulders in motion. Aloneness, my ever-present companion in New Zealand, knew it must step back and remain in the shadows for a while. But it was always there. That soft drumbeat of solitude. That place that we both knew from bitter experience that we must keep burning quietly in the far reaches of our individual souls. For early autumn has begun to string the coloured lanterns from the trees. Today Nature is preparing my farewell party. Tomorrow I must leave America.
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