Friday

A long day and late finish.
It was astoundingly wet this morning and I arrived to the cleaner saying there was a wasp infestation in the toilet, and a few drowsily meandering around, including one in my room.
My friend said she had a splendid image of ‘how many white, Anglo-Saxon Protestants can you get in a toilet?’, which was lost on me until I got up to speed.
A bit of a gap in the middle of the day meant I could send off more evidence for further accreditation and sort out the next stage of the endless process started back in 2020 https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2767528666714866476

Another poem for yesterday ... we probably need an environment poem for every day ...

Earth - Derek Walcott

Let the day grow on you upward
through your feet,
the vegetal knuckles,

to your knees of stone,
until by evening you are a black tree;
feel, with evening,

the swifts thicken your hair,
the new moon rising out of your forehead,
and the moonlit veins of silver

running from your armpits
like rivulets under white leaves.
Sleep, as ants

cross over your eyelids.
You have never possessed anything
as deeply as this.

This is all you have owned
from the first outcry
through forever;

you can never be dispossessed.