Thursday, July 3, 2014

To Share Yes

I remember mornings given mostly to staggering half drunk to where I dropped my cigarettes and now I sit quietly out back near the dogwood tree grateful for another morning it didn't come to that. Men who sleep in cars, men who carry knives . . . Broken hearts take many forms as my shoelaces are only so happy to remind you. We walk farther than usual and sit by the brook talking in the old way and it settles me, it quietens me.

Two days running now a scarlet tanager flirts with us where Sam Hill Road is flanked by unhayed fields - once going ahead, once falling behind. After rain, daisies hang their sodden heads and dragonflies gasp for air where the sturdy milkweed holds its ground. Jesus says "you want to talk about tractors, then let's talk about tractors," and when I say "no, I want to talk about Emily Dickinson" he says "How will they tell the story -/When Winter shake the Door - ." Well, a pair of moose calves trod through Watts Brook at 5 a.m., turning to look at me when I call to them and the old dog, who is at last too tired to give chase to anything, just watches.

I demand you bring the world back to me golden and whole! I remember hiking with Chris years ago - silent a good couple of hours - and just shy of Mansfield's rocky summit he said, "I wonder if angels give head?" And now we walk in dogged quiet, now we claim the ruins. There is enough tea for all of us to share, yes?

Strangers pass and we watch them go, aware that they are taking yet another shot at salvation with them. Waves rise and fall on the salty singing sea and we swim through them at twilight, pretending to be whales. Oh Big Dipper won't you spill your sweet nectar down upon me? I've never been too tired for a kiss and whatever happiness follows.

Morning turns to high noon and the many ghosts I know come, rattling chains, dragging old silk. S. asks shyly what do I like so much about A Course in Miracles if God is everywhere and in all things and so forth. Oh for a glance of the revved-up sanctuary! Being mostly forgiven and walking around happily, bored as always with clothing.

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