Sunday, May 11, 2008

I have very badly wanted a parakeet lately. His name would be Leonidas.

Sunday night in the city. Dusk comes late these days as daylight stretches out across a frame so wide it confuses time. Along Washington, the setting sun hits downtown with a glow of orange and reds that make a soul ache for permanence. The sight will last only a moment. A towering skyline reflects it back in submission, economy bowing to calm before a Monday that will bring a week of movement and energy. Planes fly west chasing the disappearing horizon. Here now, monies are counted and dishes washed, clinking and clanging to end the day and I too wish to chase west, knowing night will be long and tomorrow begins my last week here for a while. Pen to paper to keys and letter in darkness distracts for a time from a struggle that will claim the next several hours. Thoughts that need exit before concentration. Lamps are lit in counteraction with songs on repeat to note the words that have yet to be heard. I’m glad for the jazz they played so near to closing, and the smell of radiance and the quest for community.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Blue-Butterfly Day, a notable spring.

Woke this morning to light skies and thunder, as I expect tomorrow to begin. The day passed slowly as moving out of doors felt like swimming, hot and humid. I was grateful for the April spring that is warming to summer. So in gratitude, a plagiarism:



It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.

But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
R.F.

Monday, May 5, 2008

A struggled mix of proximity and distance confused and minutes pass as sleep evades.

Three hours and miles ahead. Roads will greet the sun as northern travel goes and I along will be grateful for light. Hands thick with air want water and three has come sooner than expected. It seems thoughts come at the suggestion of friends or music or dreams, and today has had much of each. Words with shared glances and silence. I listened to a friend’s song so beautiful it was all I could do to stay confined to chest without explosion from ache. And surprising wisdom and question from a friend left vision for a time and end of which I’m still unsure. How can I miss the place I’m in?