When time is phoenix winged...

I opened a book this evening and a card fell out.

It was from my daughter Skye, written at the time of the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah) several years ago.

It was a beautiful message to rediscover so unexpectedly, from our first born on a warm summer's eve.

This is what it says:

My Darling Mum and Dad,

When time is Phoenix winged

and tiny markers

like plumes,

lay down creases about your eyes

to feather your memory...

When the years pool

like spring water

and show you

your children's faces

gathered again at your

blue striped kitchen table,

singing

songs of apple and of honey...

You should know that angels

sit amongst them,

and goodness folds itself into

the pleats of your New Year's

skirt.

And when that skirt is ruffled,

by the shiny coat of your labrador

brushing past you,

or by the wind in the old oaks at Talana,

or by the swish of your former self

urging you forward;

You should know too,

that you leave a wake of goodness,

a shimmery, shell paved shoreline

in all the places that you have

placed your feet.

xxxx Skye

(I think the patients feel better just by seeing this young doctor walk into the ward!)