knowing (part four)

you jumped

skipped, hopped over

eight years gone missing

the quiet of forest -misleading

as the twisted twigs show

the contortion of thought

peeled slowly…

you had every reason to believe

the smile, wink and nod of moonlit glow

was your savior unknown.

*my photo

knowing (part three)

you inherited the chive patch
knowing
picked blossoms fail to seed
saving you time later from unwanted guests -so

fill a jar with rice vinegar
bathe the purple buds
in time, pink flows

covering life in marinade
saucy joy splashes high
above the growing grass
menial tasks put off another day.

knowing (part two)

collection of private journals -packed away 1/9/2018

journal pages ripped straight from time
time severs the mind
cheap wholesale thoughts -sold to highest bidder
reminders we are products of hard work and perseverance.

who sells the answers cheaper?
i scanned the pages with a qr reader
as if written in hieroglyphics
and everything came back blank

empty promises made to myself
to do this and to do that
a book of Eden
pleasure where the world is lost to me.

then i see it
a post dated May 28, 2001
its been a long time since i wrote
back then i’m planning my garden

dirty seeds -buried
exist in the laundry room
watered and well lit
sprouting hope

all hope lost to time
with your splintered soul lying in same dirt
waiting to be watered
seasonal drought takes hold

everyone is missing from your life
and if you were a prophetess you would have heeded the words heard
“Be ready!”
but you kept moving

knowing nothing attacks the target -flying
opportunities obeyed
and your missed shots left scars
miles long, long gone -no time for healing.

My bookshelf

Yes, these friends are finally being packed away. Today. Suffocating, perhaps. I like to think i am giving them a break. And me too. Its been a few years since I read them, but before I stack them, lovingly put aside, i extract a few thoughts to pass your way…

I never promised you a rose garden. But dear, my promise garden flourishes. Even, dead of winter, a bleak despair, seeds believe in miracles.

“Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.”

“My love is something valuable to me which I ought not to throw away without reflection.”

Freud Civilization and Its Discontents

“we are all murderers and prostitutes – no matter to what culture, society, class, nation one belongs, no matter how normal, moral, or mature, one takes oneself to be.”

“Whether life is worth living depends on whether there is love in life.”

r. d. laing

Like old friends, we will meet again. In a new town, the words will take on new meanings.

I actually wrote this a week ago. Its like a memory. I suppose it is memory. Feels a dream I want to wake up from. But the possibility of living in Boston is intriguing. Closer to my love of Monhegan Island and Maine. I can hear the loons call and follow the moose tracks… that is what life exists for me.

If I ran the zoo

“Can I get a cat?” scrolling through the Craigslist feed, Anna looks up at her father. Switches her glance to me. Investigative journalism, smart. Interrogation, even wiser. She was feeling us out.

I adamantly said no. For 23 years I’ve been running a zoo. Every animal imaginable, small and sweet, has been a member of the family.

First it was Leo. For Emily. A rather cute guinea pig bought in Brooklyn. We took the subway there, from Manhattan. It was quite an adventure for a girl raised in the country.

A menagerie followed. I erected a wall at rats and snakes. I never gave in to Emily’s barrage of pleas and tears, which calmed my fears, but never her willingness to ask. The toughest I have ever been.

I once bought a pod of praying mantis to eat the “bad” bugs in the garden. My long days spent in the backyard had paid off. I was fortunate to witness their hatch. Whoever was the first one out, well, he was lucky. The charge afterwards was furious, each climbing over the brother. And sister. I believe I read they eat each other. I didn’t stay for lunch.

By August there were a few mature mantis stationed in the yard. I felt their eyes wherever I walked. It began to feel quite anxious in my other wise peaceful garden.

One summer evening, a mantis had climbed up to Luke’s bedroom window. I asked if he would like to invite him in, give Mr. Mantis a staycation in a bug cage. Luke agreed.

“Mom!” rang out. He was a frenzied mess. He couldn’t sleep. Those eyes. Now he knew how I felt, ever cautious, playing in my garden. Mantis can fly. And eat Hummingbirds. Oh my!

Anna had been struggling. Teenagitis was the worst for her. So it was to be, my husband agreed to another cat. We came back home with two.

Up next, how to choose a pet name.