Freedom of Rockhollow May 2019

Cold evening 10pm, watching light fade, awaiting the moon.
Plant of the day: Black Pak Choi  
Wildlife of the day: Golden Chaffinch  
  
I sat, in the almost dark,    
gentle chill waltzing into my bones, hair a scarf to neck,  
socks a place to call home.    
I listened to the crow, chaffinch, sparrow on their nightly rounds,    
cardoons casting silver shapes, as ghostly protectors of this place. Canes  
of plenty busyness, tomatoes, mangetout, cup and saucer making tracks - with a little guidance.  
A train journeyed quickly behind me, the noise cut through quiet, pondered who was escaping this City, across the border, settled inside my pit, rested.    
Shivers quickened.    
The air was a rich and yet distance woodburn, a dog barked from the estate over the river. Life felt almost steadying after a long wade through a storm -  
my own making, but when is it not?  
I never wanted to be a writer  
just a woman always able to let others in, regardless of how often I've been challenged to shy from it.    
Human condition is a wonderous and cruel thing,  
alone in this space of endless almost silence
I knew exactly who I was and who I am heading to being -  
So I wondered where is your place to figure life out?  
When were you last free?