2 – 6 November 2026

Monday She said: “It’s about K. You need to know” – and then nothing. No full stop, no fade away, just the room and the morning. The room isn’t dark because time shifted an hour while I was away. Dark mornings are light again. I keep dreaming of people I know in untrue but plausible circumstances. Not premonitions obviously, but they leave an uneasy feeling it’s hard to shake. Today is the first autumn walk in wellies. A coat too, although that proves premature when I pick up the pace on the way to the wood. I pass someone I know who is also marching with purpose. She pops out an EarPod and we say a speedy hello and laugh in recognition of the situation and each other. In the wood, industrious squirrels are bringing in the harvest. When there’s no time to flee they wait, petrified, with acorns clamped between their jaws. The storms have uprooted more trees. Some have taken down others in their fall. On social media someone posts Dorianne Laux’s poem, Cello. I have the book this is…

Commenting on Bubbles has been removed. Why? If you want to talk about this post, write to the author, use the comments on their blog if it has them, or reply with a "RE:" post on your own blog. Suggestions? feedback@bubbles.town