Wednesday, June 11, 2014

My Whispery Professions of Love

An abundance of cardinals, visible most clearly in the maple trees near noon, and thus my heart composes yet again its willingness to open and receive the dim blessing. Wordiness amplifies doubt. Silver rain falling so we turn to coffee, poorly-worded apologies, and dreams of ruined harpsichords. Where did you last see the fatal container?

The Rose of Sharon struggling in new soil, mirroring my own struggles, or so I say, being inclined to both drama and metaphor. Stages abound, as do cardinals and - lately anyway - rain. Yet the waves wash in slowly over the sound and one takes a certain comfort in it, one takes a certain joy. Walk with me a way?

Or did I mean to say walk away with me! F. and I buy home-baked cookies - unusual in our personal economy - and eat them while driving home. If I could describe Jesus in one word it would be "flexible" or maybe "pain in the ass." The coyote eyeballed me from fifty yards away, wildly unimpressed, despite my whispery professions of love.

We are presently assembling the materials from which Heaven's gate will finally be constructed. Union also abounds, as does upset and long ambling walks through country cemeteries, a forgotten - a narrative - joy. The dog is old suddenly, and so once again I have to face my crazy inability to be sad and to grieve. In general, my plan is to garner attention without actually asking for it, or even appearing to want it and most of the time it works but lately I've been wondering what I mean by "works."

Once you've seen noon clearly night is no mystery. The black raspberries are coming in slowly, little green cones on towering bushes, and I remember last year's insight that one should never be so invested in pie that they forget to leave berries for hungry birds. The milk snake unfurled slowly in the nest box and my daughter asked me to bring her a shovel and I thought, okay, I've done something right. We withhold the very light we need and then wonder why it's so damn dark all the time.

No comments:

Post a Comment