Still Full

The studio was lit by the moon’s eerie light when I woke. It lifts my heart when I see it and I’m loathe to switch on the overhead bulb. It shone as I walked, that white light that I struggle to describe. No torch was needed on the Perygyl. I stood for a short while on far reaches of the jetty. It was quiet, will barely a wind. I’m under the weather, not quite myself, a little off colour, all those things. It is nothing but something that takes away a little of my motivation. It will pass, it always does. I worry about her. Her daughter was taken into hospital and she so hates to be alone in the house. But neighbours and friends have rallied, it seems. One of the wives electing to stay overnight. I glad she is taken care of, watched out for. Life has been hard for her, and I wonder sometimes about her daughter carrying the weight of her. Keep them as well as can be.

He slept better. I hear him putting on his waterproofs. The rain has just come, not heavy yet. And the sky is opening to the day, finally. Winter begins to close in.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.