Five of my previously published books have won funding to be converted into ebooks. The proof-reading process has been laborious, because I can't mark the 'pages', and have to write copious notes to describe the mistakes and corrections. So I've been taking it slowly. But yesterday I was given a deadline of December 15. After that date, there will be no more funding.
The tide was going out.
A kingfisher sat on the boat ramp, very still, watching the water.
Beyond, a heron stalked the water's edge, searching for fish.
The wind rustled the leaves in the overhanging pohutukawa trees, which at times seemed to sigh with a long outbreath.
The water rippled in gentle swathes of greys and greens.
Tai chi by the sea slows me down and helps me to enter a different rhythm.
Watching these birds, serenely seeking their next meal, helped me to slow down and trust that all is well, the impossible task will be done.
I always loved Dylan Thomas's lines about the heron - 'herons spire and spear', and these lines also from 'Poem in October':
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore . . .
The priestly presence of the heron, and its companion, the kingfisher, brought me into sanctuary and a sense of gratitude.