These are the days when I become a quiet rock,
a quivering leaf, an ear of lichen
listening to the stones grow.
The words have wandered away,
eloquence eludes me,
and all my sentences begin
with the word So.
Wind will sing in my feathers
but my own story waits
like a seed in the heart of earth,
like a dream that must rise through mud,
a bubble, the nymph of a damselfly
crawling through centuries
up the stalk of a smooth green reed
to be born to the blue light.
There is a roaring in my ears
like the sound of grief or rage.
But it is only the lazy hum of summer,
of fireflies clicking their rhythms
into the velvet indigo of solstice,
communing with the moon.
Another day I’ll dawn,
but for now I will sink
slowly into the pond
with Grandmother Moon
and leave my message with the fish.
The makings of a batch of medicine bags: spinning the wool, crocheting, and adding beads and cord. Portable and easy to fit in the spaces of a busy season.
Gratitude List:
1. Clouds. Not cloudiness, which is its own sort of blessing at times. But clouds, those Michelangelo works of art that have been so magnificent in the recent spate of changeable weather.
2. Vegetable Gardens. Have you seen it, too? Everywhere, woven through people’s flower patches, a few tomato cages, a wide-spreading squash. Or off to the side of the house–out front, even–tidy or wanton, fenced or flowing vegetable gardens. If this crazy economy has been good for anything, I think it has empowered people to remember that they can grow their own food.
3. The way things come together sometimes, even when you’re not quite trying. This is especially nice when I remember the times when things haven’t come together, even when I’ve tried desperately.
4. Day lilies and chicory. Bright orange stars on all the back-road banks, and chicory’s beautiful blue eyes, almost as sparkly as my Jonny’s. Let’s throw in some lace, shall we? Queen Anne has plenty to spare. And something golden to balance the lace–buttercups! And just here, a cascade of lush lavender vetch. Oh summer! You fill my spirit.
5. Making. There are moments in these busy days when I have to sit down and rest, but my hands still want something to do. I have found my way back to making again, and am satisfied.
May we walk in Beauty.
Mockingbird Chronicles 