Jubilee Flourish

Pruned Still LovedRomans 8:33-34

For the person who has been quietly building the case against herself since the losses started, this closes the second column and shows her the empty seat where the prosecutor was supposed to be.

NovaFor the doubting

9 min

The File I Keep on Myself

The Alarm at Twenty to Seven

The Arrow Cut Into the Brick

The Pajamas in the Boot

The Graduation in July

The Floorboard You Still Listen For

Three Seatbelts and Nobody in Them

Two Years Of Bare Soil

The File I Keep on Myself

The Bowl of Blackberries I Put Down

The Peg at the End of the Rail

The Folding Chair With the Label Still On

The Room You Are Still Standing In

The Film I Have Never Seen the End Of

The Pot That Did Not Fit in the Bag

The Thermometer on the Porch Post

The Year the Orchard Looked Asleep

The Alarm Still Set for Four

The Van in Bay Nine

The Rain Gauge on the Gate Post

The Car Door In The Street Below

The Shift App at Five in the Morning

The Stone Fountain on the Promenade

The Radio Nobody Turns On at Seven

The Back Door I Painted in June

Three Years of Masking Tape

The Scrape on the Passenger Door

The Bucket on the Drive at Eight

The Chair That Faces The Door

The Photograph of the Second Row

The Four Chairs in My Own House

The Figs on the Windowsill

The Third Stair Worn Through

The Eleven Minute Pan

The Dates in Next Year's Diary

The Empty Square on the Fridge

The Appointment Card in the Drawer

Still the Same About the Shoes

The Flask You Still Fill at Four

The List on the Workshop Door

My Own Face in the Black Screen

Ten Past Ten in Your Own Kitchen

The Hearting in the Wall

The Phone Face Up on the Counter

The Corner I Have Not Turned In Three Years

The Night Bus at Twenty To Seven

The Letter in the Second Drawer

Thursday Without the Binder

The Sticks Along the North Fence

Nine Stamps Out of Ten

The Card in the Battery Drawer

The Chair They Pulled Out for Me

The Shed Calendar With Nothing Past March

The Bench by the Boundary Stone

Nothing Is Wrong And I Cannot Sit Down

The Nail I Never Put in the Wall

The Olive Tree in the Blue Pot

The Barn Door I Walk Past

Eighteen Months and Not One Lemon

The Shoes I Carry Up My Own Stairs

The Visitor Badge at Reception

The Coat He Kept On Indoors

The Notebook I Keep on Sundays

The Rota on the Noticeboard

The Folder in My Coat Pocket

Every Leaflet on the Rack

The Mug That Does Not Match

The Bag by the Door

The Pigeonhole With My Name In It

The Page I Still Read at Six

The Table I Have Never Sat Down At

The Voice Note on the Old Phone

The Iron Pin at the Field Corner

The Tally in the Road Atlas

The Marks on the Door Frame

The Last Stop On The Number Eight

The Mirror Over the Sink

The Cutting in the Jam Jar

The Sideboard on the Landing

The Key I Never Took Off The Ring