Tuesday, 1 October 2013



Arm up, in the air, watch it dance across the sky, to and fro, to and fro. Let my fingers twist and twirl in the air; let them glide. Both arms out; up; background of blue and white, bundly perfection. Close my eyes, breathe in. Feel the sweat on my back and the burn on my shoulders – distracted; the jacaranda has burst into purple flame. The still air wills the little flowers to the ground and they drop – amethyst falls out of the sky. The grass is yellow and plays a warm symphony to the sun-drenched earth. It is a frantic, heated polyphony. Still, quiet, loud, ever moving, all at the same time, somehow, someway, and not slowing enough to be known through and through. It is a blur.

It is Summer.

There is no Spring here. Summer simply has attributes of Spring, and here, we must be content with that and watch the season turn on a dime; hairpinning its way from Winter in a fleeting instant.

Summer. Golly.


In eleven days, I will turn seventeen. I will get my Ps. I will finish school. I will pretend to be a responsible adult for a year before becoming one; officially. I cannot hairpin like this warm season, into a more beautiful, loving, obedient woman. No. I will continue on slowly, learning always and never stopping, until I am made more like Him every day. And one fine morning-

One fine morning I will awaken with a clean heart and a renewed spirit. But I will beat on, boat against the current, through 'life', bearing always toward that one, radiant moment.

And then forevermore.



Hannah Somervaille said...

You write exquisitely, Ginny. X

Laura said...

Your writing is so amazing. It is pure pleasure to read your words. October is my favourite month, for so many reasons, how you wrote about it was just beautiful, thank you!