On warm days, when the fire’s unlit,
one or two pigeons often sit
on the roof and on a chimney pot,
where, of course, it’s no longer hot
and there’s no chance of being choked
by the ever-swirling smoke
of winter. In spring and summer,
when I’m busy in the kitchen, I hear
the pigeons’ self-contented coos dropping
down the chimney, gently plopping,
and I stop – smile as I wash the dishes up –
thankful that we have a chimney pot.
Kim M. Russell, 26th April 2019
Karin has shared some of her artwork and asks us to write about moments of re-charging, rebooting, re-winding, re-birthing. She would like us to write generally and not about in-between seasons: moments such as a deep breath, a swallowed words, a spoken word, and they could be brief or very long, as long as we are with the moment or experience.