I arrived at St Andrew's at 8.30am this morning to say Matins with Jim, then celebrate a BCP Communion for ten people. Afterwards, I chatted with people assembled for the midweek coffee morning and sale, and before I knew it, lunchtime had arrived, so I went back to the apartment, and spent more time working on a poetic meditation I started to create during the quiet hour at yesterday's Day of Prayer.
When I was sitting in the shade of the garden's fig tree (where better to follow Nathaniel's example?), first I wondered about trying to make a sketch, but then fell back, as I usually do, on playing with words. I had the idea to trying to write something with structure, rather than habitual free verse. So I attempted to discipline my thoughts to eight syllables a line, though I'm not sure it has the consistent rhythm it needs to work when spoken aloud. Still, practice makes perfect. It's nice to have the time and freedom for this.
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