This week has been non-stop, so I’m happy to have reached Sunday as it gets SO MUCH COLDER and life vomits me out into the urban grey, unfortunately…. to do suitably grown-up things.
I had a job interview for a bit of Christmas temping on Thursday. I think it went well, I got good feedback and the people are lovely. My old place could only offer two weeks this year. For the second half of the interview at the new place I dutifully pitched products at the manager (verbally! – although unemployment does wonders for your aim) and helped people on the present-buying prowl.
I do sort of like working at Christmas… Oh God. I’m one of those perpetually helpful Nice Women no one fancies… Hope I don’t finish last. Ladies first as a rule…
I am so sorry! It appears I’ve missed a ton of your comments that I didn’t see until I went into Dashboard on Friday. A bit of my weekend will be yours. Nothing personal, just life! (I literally typed ‘love’ just then. That’s what happens when you give you give you hands free rein over a keyboard while listening to Jessie Ware…) *fans self delicately*
Rest assured, here is this week’s Sunday poem and a tree dressed in cloth of gold to prove the wealth of my devotion.
There has been some pagan rite
A great hand-fasting overnight
For every path is strewn it seems
With a confetti of golden leaves.
And the ash-green trees
Cold, mossy and wise,
Have lichen gilding
Their branches’ insides
The colour of
While pure copper
Abounds at their roots
Like a memory
Of former youth.
In awe, or stand bemused
For amid their reaching arms
And eloquent hands.
The wood is full of
The ancient nakedness
(© Copyright Pola Negri, 20/11/2016.)