Life is a perpetual dance.
Sometimes slow, sometimes manic,
but nothing stays set in stone.
In the long nights of winter I watched the planets slide across the sky like chess pieces.
In March felt the cold waves sway my body.
April storms skelpit my hair tight against my face.
In May my heart ached with a reliable dull ticking in my chest.
The planet orbits and days waltz in and out with varying vigour.
My cycles both energising and flooring me,
tides washing in and out despite the protest of the waves.
If there were one God to rule all I solemnly believe it would be rhythm.
To allow oneself the mutability to find joy in the passage of time is to live well.
– Ingrid Hill 2025 all rights reserved
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