Saturday, September 3, 2022

An Angel just Waking Up

You are asking yourself what changed and the answer is nothing changed, you are just seeing now what does not change. Bees in the goldenrod, the goldenrod so tall it blocks the front porch. A morning glory or a bluet, possibly a butterfly, why do you ask?

Meditations on suffering in a Christian context articulated by Karl Rahner, many sentences of which were underlined by my father, a dutiful student of the subject. Noisy fans. The jewelweed at dusk, my heart opening so wide it no longer resembles a heart, more an angel just waking up.

Sunlight decanting into a muddy pond. We left the fair early, quietly speaking about what has changed over the years, including especially our perception. Cognac glasses filled with polished marbles set on the window in sunlight.

Crickets in the barn at dawn, I carry hay to the horses, apparently immortal. Blue light of faerie in the pasture, a little before midnight. We counted to three, flung our wedding rings in the sea, the whole afternoon filled with light.

A hill is a pile of dirt and rocks on which trees grow. Trimming the fallen limb of the northernmost apple tree again, trying to get it just right, even though there's no such thing. Men being boys, same old problem. 

Misunderstandings being slowly worn smooth, like rocks in the river. Low-lying sage, the scent of it so strong we stop walking, stand quietly just breathing in the world. Suddenly all these crows, is it possible I am ready at last to die?

Opening old trunks to find the family bible full of dried roses. Another dead fox on the road out of town, sooner or later your luck just quits. 

No comments:

Post a Comment