To Be Here

They have lost their green to the evening, that time when shadows darken the landscape and everything is a varying shade of black or deep blue. The setting sun is yellow-orange behind them. Their beans hang from the vines lifelessly. There is no movement in the air, no wind to shake them up. It is that way with life. We stand there, small or large trees, and we suffer in times of distress and we thrive in times of abundance. Times when the rain falls exactly when it needs to and the rain leaves as if told by the director that it is Exit, Stage Right. The rain has fallen hard this day. Night comes creeping around in all of her reddish orange glory wondering if anyone is looking. She struts her stuff, calming me as victim. I swoon in admiration. I don;t care if anyone recognizes swoon as a word any longer. I am swooning. Swanning. Watching the sky gorw darker with all of that red behind her. Thinking how glad I am to be here for this unfolding, for this presentation, for this grand show which has me so firmly rooted in the world of want to be here.

Haiku

Bales of reddish brown
hay resting atop green fields
fill me with longing.

Haiku

Bales of reddish brown
hay on the sleepy farmlands
fill me with longing.

Another FB post with no comments

Heading to E'town tomorrow for a meet-up to get our oldest grandson, Isaac. We will the drive from E'town to Nashville and spend a few nights there so he can spend some time with his cousins. We (his Gigi and Pepaw) plan to take him to the Parthenon and then to the Frist to see an exibit featuring Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, and other works from Mexican artists. I think he'll love the 42 ft tall statue of Athena at the Parthenon, and I hope he also enjoys the art exhibit. We may even go to the Adventure Science Center before we head back to Madville on Wednesday. He loves the Adventure Science Center! Chemistry and Biology fascinate him. At age 5, he was quizzing me on the Periodic Table of Elements. I actually did very well, thank you! I love Patti Smith on so many levels. Her music, of course, but her books and photos have me pondering and researching for hours, at times. Thank you, Patti. Thank you.

From FB where no one comments on much of what I have to say

I'm not crying over anyone. I am crying for everyone. And no one in particular. I am crying for me and you and him and her and they and those and his and hers and mine and yours and ours and theirs and for all reasons particular and not necessarily particular and for all times and this time and because the love I feel sometimes is so much greater than who I am and what I can express and how I can give and what I give and what I can't give and for all I have not done and all I have done and for the countless moments of every day in which my mind surrounds those I love and those I once loved and those I think I love and those I am not sure about and those who have hurt me and those I have hurt and those who remain and those who are gone and those who lift me up and those who pull me down and those who play around and those who care and those who try and those who can't seem to help how they hurt me and those who want to help me resolve the hurt and those who care and those who can't muster that up and those who wish me well and those who may wish me harm. I'm crying for all of those things. I am crying. Tears are not dropping from my eyes, but I am crying. And so on and so on and shoobie doobie doobie doobie doo.

Haiku

Bales of reddish brown
hay look forlorn as the sun

sets and my heart aches. 

Across The Divide

My bed is no longer mine. I sleep
across the hall where it is cooler
in the winter and too hot in summer.

My dog is confused and stares at me
when I emerge from the darkness
of the room across the hall. Her eyes

show her sorrow. She is old now
and quite likely to leave us soon,
and for that I grieve more than I do

for the loss of lying down in my blue
room with the red accents and the art
which tells the story of my life. This

night, I want to go in there but can't.
All that kept me there was a matter
of degrees, and I have adjusted now

to the difference, the loss of bedfellow,
the sad look in my sweet red girl's eyes.