Foetal feet

Foetal feet wake up Kay and Ant most mornings at about 5am. I was sorting through some old letters and came across this poem. It was written by James Lowe (photo) when he was 16.

“Foetal feet are forming under custodial care, in
Perfect bubble transition, buoyed along in blindfolded love and warmth.
He's a humble housemartin in a brocade of pulsing purple,
Not yet vain, but veined beyond belief,
Dark eyed, and silently doubtful, fragile thumb in a defenceless mouth.
But Mum's here; together
They're a cabal of guardian and guarded, a collusionary blur of oneness;
Minds melt in body's mould with mother.
Friendly quicksilver runs through shared vessel,
Equilibrial blood of life, emotional gold
And breath of commitment.

But when breath and blood of life communication's cut,
When reluctant dry coldness is reached,
Why will they eventually grow apart?
He's no longer a broker in the beloved,
Foetal feet'll take him away from his alter ego.”

"Making space for the sacred in Hindu India". A course run by Dr. Crispin Branfoot at OUCS. Very good. One day I'll go back to India, but for now I'll make do with photos and poems.

"At dawn they brought him golden flowers from the River in the sky.
At sunrise they perfumed him with smoking incense.
At mid-morning they covered him with cool camphor paste mixed with saffron.
For lunch they served him sweet rice with milk pudding, cakes, curd and fruit.
At sunset they pleased him with drums, conches, cymbols,
And at midnight, with the soft tones of the lute."
Srinatha. Late 14th century.

On the way home from Bourton, Cotswolds

A visitation!

Cousin Debbie came over from Boston. She's sweet.

Sand and Foam.

My house says to me,
“Do not leave me, for here dwells your past.”
And the road says to me,
“Come and follow me, for I am your future.”
And I say to both my house and the road,
“I have no past, nor have I a future.
If I stay here, there is a going in my staying;
and if I go there is a staying in my going.
Only love and death change all things.”

Kahlil Gibran.

oxford spires from Boar's hill