getting close

hi.

it is the afternoon here and i went at lunchtime to listen to daniel keene, a famous australian playwright (why isn't it playwrite?), read a piece he had written in response to a painting on a wall in front of which he stood.

like all good things that make you think of other good and fabulous things, i thought about you and your lady belle (whom i have never met), and realised that you soon will be parents.

then i noticed the walls on which the drawings were mounted must have been painted recently, and in a hurry, and then i thought about the gaps between keene's words, and felt thankful to him and for them, and for all the space left for the rest of us to create something therein and of and under.

and the creation part led me of course back to you and your lady belle.

this is just love and happy friday and all things cyclical and recurring, where ever this finds you, hopefully with your gloves and scarves unlike the ones i left on my kitchen table this morning.

embrolly xx

This is just to say

I know the man
across the road
gave you the pallet
of eggs possibly

as a thank-you gift
for being so kind
to his cat
or as a gesture

not so easily exchanged
between even men
who have known
one another for the longest

time
but I started
at two for breakfast
on that first morning

and went back
for several more
that evening and
though I knew you

were saving some
for your week-end
plans to make breakfast
in bed

for your girlfriend
I couldn't resist
polishing them off
with a speed

I believe
had you seen
you would
have marveled at