1st February, 2023
Transitioning Beyond Academia
Dr Gemma Outen
6th April, 2022
Linda France
26:03:22 A Walk in the Chat Box from Cathy, Elaine, Evelyn, Geeta, Gemma, Jude, Lavinia, Linda, Mary, Sarah and Tamsin to Everyone:
Rosemary in my mouth
I consider the holly as a place for a message
where winter berries conceal spring nests
men pass buckets of concrete
overhead in the warm alleyway
I carry the last three months with me
spring can contain winter
and winter, spring
you’re allowed to enjoy the cherry blossom
even with such a heavy cold as this
walking out of the door – liberation
cars and birds
fox pee
dry tarmac, damp grass
sweet spring morning
settled, stretching
fox sleeping on jasmine
foxes and cars
and always the flowers
thighs tender
after yesterday’s gardening
early daffodils, double-headed, orange-eyed
4.30pm, feet heavy
body cold
crossing the paint store yard
no mask –
I turn back towards home
a pile of pallets bask
in the evening sun
in an hour or two the rats
will come frolicking
in their concrete playground
10.30pm, LFT positive
his pumpkin dark green
with light longitudinal patches
edges – curvy, organic
one shape like a Cycladic figurine
I once saw in Athens
a female figure
arms folded across the chest
others like stars on a dark evening
or leaves floating down a river
planets in a universe curving round itself
birds spin a net round my shoulders with their song
green fields and blue sky
meet at the horizon
stretching and yawning, waking up
springtime – blossoming
my baby daughter crawls around the garden
her first time feeling the earth – Mother Earth
insidious fumes
Save Ukraine
peace chalked under my feet
birds chug-chugging away
Vinca major’s eyes, expectant mauve
a striped leg reaches up to get onto the tyre
Mummy look, Mummy look!
chirp-chirping
a forget-me-not leaning forward to find the light
Ma…Maaa!
the Italian sunglasses darken in the sun
Come si chiama il vostro?
Voglio andare dentro, the little girl insists
a split-tongued beech tree
leaning to the north
the winter fir drooping by the road
dark innards
Mama!
Bravissima!
Oooh! whirling on the tyre, rollicking on the spring
car roaring breaks through
beep beep beep
a plane’s groan overhead
hellebores bow
to the spring
the acer balancing
green lace
with red shoots
grass bounces me up, carpet soft
except for the dog shit and cannisters
sinusitis-blunted senses
I can’t smell the scent
gorse bursting out in gold buds
on the way back a dandelion sneaks a look
and purple lettuce weed
new green privet leaves already smeared with dust
the hum of cars
lined up
in a traffic jam
purposeful footsteps
on the pavement
strains of bass
from someone’s flat
across the road
birds chirping
fighting to be heard
a man exclaims No! from behind a garden wall
gentle warming breeze of spring
the damson blossom appears
as snowflakes
well-travelled tree
a runner uprooted from our family home
replanted and grown in new places
now it belongs here
trunk gnarled and split, but still strong
branches reaching for the sky
honeybees dancing between the blooms
nature emerging from its winter sleep
bare feet on cold tiles
silence
open door
wind in the trees
sounds like ocean
bare feet on soft soil
wind drops
birds sing
bare feet on damp grass
cars pass
tread carefully over prickly stones
fallen twigs
lone bee buzzing
silence, cold tiles
clicking ankles
five steps at my front door she won’t manage with her walker
a woman sits, looks at the view
shiny black hair skewed to the side
of her neck in a tuft
I can’t hear the baby
in the pram beside her
in her tartan pyjamas, Granny sits
one leg crossed over the other
one elbow angled on her knee
grey spirit of her cigarette
makes me sneeze
small boy shrieks
bounce around
the trampoline cage
I poke through the fence
to smooth as alabaster, limb-less Venus
gaze tilted to a Coke tin on the turf
A virtual renga curated by Linda France
from a simultaneous/shared /solitary walk
at The Culture Capital Exchange’s Women Walking Festival
on Saturday 26th March 2022.
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