Tenderness has time here

A softening [part two]

Dear Reader,

This is part two, a pause piece, a tender offering, to be read unhurried.

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Tenderness has time here,

for I now know

if there is not enough time

to light candles in the evening

I

am

living

outside

of

my

means.

In the same way morning light moves through my bedroom window softly drawing the colour yellow across the floor like a slow gradient, from grounds edges to ceilings heights — my life too has seen softer things return this way.

I have witnessed an appetite, the art of a meal, the love of flavour, return to me in the arms of tenderness.

I have watched my own soft edges rise into high walls and slowly unbuild in the company of softer things.

I have watched geographical locations, flowers and rivers make plans on my behalf—and it has me thinking about the immediate a lot.