bow out

it's late, i must to bed, but first, i must write. always this writing thing. and this happens to me most when i am without pen.

i went back to my old haunt and saw the vet, who informed me of how things have been in my absence. i walked around that store feeling light and free. it was a nice feeling.

the heat has been oppressive, so when i arrived at my friend's and was not scrambling to get inside, i noticed a blue, robin's egg blue, dragonfly on the ground. uncertain if he was living, i walked up to him, and he lifted off.

then i noticed a marigold with a common sulpher on it. and it took me back to texas. to my garden back then, the only place i've ever had a garden. and how i would sit for hours in that garden. watch the sun rise. the morning glories open. feel the appraoching storms, and count the monarchs migrating.

it has been a long time since i've wanted to be in that garden, but there were so many wonders there. truly.

and so i stood there, with the sulpher, and watched him fly a figure eight, but the word infinity came to me. and he landed on a flower ust by the one he'd lifted off from. then darted around again, to get to the next flower.

i'd not do well as a butterfly, i'm all straight and shortcutty. they're all liberal with their erratic flight. i'm erratic, but not when it comes to travel. i want the straight shot home. though i guess if there were huge beaks waiting to gobble me up, i'd come to appreciate the finer points of misdirection.

not now.

and so, my friend's husband arrives home from work to me standing at the foot of their walkway, staring down at the flowers. i saw him as he pulled into the garage, but i was locked on the sulpher. there was no place else in the world i'd rather be.

then their daughter poked her head out the front door.

i don't know how long she was there, or what she was saying. probably, we're home, come in. but i was listening to music and mesmerized by the erratic flight of one so delicate.

and finally she came outside to see what i was doing. invited me in, and i said,

in time i'll be there.

(note: if i ever come to your house and am mesmerized by something like a flower or bird or butterfly, ust leave me there. let me be. in time it will end, but those are the moments when poems speak themselves. and time ceases it's crushing press. don't even try to get my attention, just let me be lost in whatever it is i am lost in. perhaps you could join me and get lost in it, too--it has taken great pains to teach my daughter this. to teach her how to tiptoe into my moments rather than come crashing in like a wave).

in truth, i just wanted to see the hawk that roosts in the tree lining their property. gorgeous, the valley tucked between two mountains. i could make a life in those hills. those curves would nestle me safely if i let them.

and then, i deadheaded her marigolds. there is something healing about scattering seed. i see why men enjoy it. i knew most of the seeds would be gobbled up by a hungry bird, up early. but some would take root. some would become. some would live.

and those are the seeds that i scattered today.

poor reproductive success. i thought.

but perhaps not. maybe just nature's way of providing for all. some got to eat. some got to live. some got to grow.

i went in after thinking, this is probably the one prohibited behavior of persian households, the friend scattering marigold seeds in the garden without permission. and so i apologized for deadheading her flowers, and i said,

smell my fingers.

hmm.

she said.

musky. right?

yes. musky.

and she laughed.

so we went to a gorgeous house up past georgewashington's encampment, and i was told a bit of history which i promptly forgot. and we were just women together.

that was the best part. no children. no husbands. no pressures.

just us, our hearts, our lives. who we are in this moment. who we want to be in the next.

and i must go to bed, i'm tired. but i remembered why i don't dance in groups or care for choreography, it's just not how i was intended to dance.

though the veil work was gorgeous, i can see how a group would make for a smashing performance. but then you have the performance angle again.

i'm not a dancer to perform. i'm a dancer because i must dance to live.

and so, tonight, i lived again. for a moment. and it was not half bad.

it was actually good. that unfamiliar feeling of simple satisfaction.