A poem arrived amongst my emails today, all the way from the southern hemisphere.  The sender is on a journey around the world.  The poem, which with their permission I have posted above, warmed my heart and set me thinking.  About the importance of being remembered.  Of existing in the heart and mind of another.

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Being different doesn’t mean being bad or wrong, but it can feel risky. As a teenager I got into deep trouble for not wearing my school uniform as I was expected to. As an adult I can see the wisdom of group identity but as a youngster I was exercising my ‘separation’ muscles. I’m still a bit like that. If I feel I’m being coerced into group behaviour I resist with all my might.
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The North Sea was wild today, crashing against the rocks by the harbour. I walked along the sand for awhile but was drawn to roar of the waves. Climbing onto the harbour wall I stood close enough to feel the spray but with distance enough to avoid a drenching. Now and again a freak wave would reach higher to surprise me. Read All

Late August and late summer days can be glorious.  As September moves in, the light changes to a more golden glow and Indian summer sunny skies have a deeper hue. The air seems softer, the breeze fresher.  In the garden there is a ripeness and mellowness not there earlier in the year.

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