Sensual Sunday

The world is beset by problems, we recognise them easily, and dwell perhaps too long there.

Those that know about these things, say it is our survival instinct that hard-wires the human brain to bad news.

So we keep building our prisons around us, as we think they make us safe.

Perhaps, but our happiness lies in recognising paradise in our every day.

yesterday was a sensual Sunday.
A stroll along the beach
the warm ocean lapping at my feet.
Scattered in the scalloped foam
a dozen long-stemmed white roses
washed in by the tide
a wedding or funeral at sea?

after a long dinner of chewing over new ideas
rolling my mind around delicious thoughts
and a dessert of unbridled hilarity
in the company of mindful strangers
we picked up singing bowls
and with slow circular movements
drew the harmony of the universe around us

alone in the starlight
surrounded by a thousand hills
I was touched by moonshine
black and silver dappled
his nose velvet soft in my neck
we stood together for a silent moment
his head heavy on my shoulder
I threw my head back to the milky way
he turned his back to the grass

A long hot shower
warm to bed

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