The Delights

To remember, for myself, to hold up and examine in the light, in the casual way one might hold up a glass to see the liquid inside it move and glow:

The delight of reading a really great book (The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zachary Mason) and to recommend it to others (but gently)

The delight of sitting in early sunshine, turning your head up to it, aware of snowdrops turning their head to the ground, each choice a right one

The delight of this ridiculously beautiful butternut squash

The delight of starting a new project, the sense of energy it brings, even if all you’ve done is open a document and written, notes:

The delight of finishing a story, sending it off, and having kind feedback on it

The delight of investigating a wood on a night walk with a small child

The delight of sleep

The delight of the seagulls passing overhead in the bluegrey light, hundreds of them, though I can’t know if they have delight in their wheeling, but surely, they must

The delight of seeing friends successes and toasting them. Struggles easing. Effort rewarded

The delight of February, seeing it described as a ‘novella of a month’

The delight of getting air in the lungs

The delight of learning to run

The delight of being bad at art and loving making anyway

Bread delights, apple delights, cup of tea dregs tapping at my teeth delight

& hot showers & indoor plumbing generally & having a garden after years without & the future & right now, take a small breath, and sentimentality permissible after a great weariness & the sea, oh