When the time comes

When the time comes – for Charlotte

When I think of Charlotte – and I do all the time, especially when I pass the turning to nearby Charlottetown (I love the idea of Charlotte having her own town!), I think of her generosity of spirit, of friendship, of talent, of time; the way she wrinkled her nose; and, of course, her signature red and black fashion style.

I think she would have liked the poem When the time comes by my friend Anne Caldwell (from Talking with the Dead).

 

                                Surround me
with a feathered quilt of friends,
then shoo them out. Feed me slivers of
ripe mango, find a way to swiftly chill Chablis.

 

A splash/dash of red, Thomson’s Tower in Dr. Neil’s Garden, Edinburgh (2013)

News

Read my latest news on my blog

Read more...

Get in touch or
sign up for my newsletter