I'm at that fortunate point in life that all I can be is grateful. Things really can't be much better. The nightmares in the world and degradation of the planet is ever present in my heart, crackling in my bones. Still, I wake up joyful.
It's partly due to the green and yellow pollen that wafts through the Klehini Valley and down the Chilkat Range in such thick plumes they might be mistaken for dust devils.
Potential growth, a biotic memory blanket is being layered thickly over the remaining snow, yellow as garlic powder. It sticks to my sweaty skin as I labor turning the garden beds in the eighty-four degree heat.
In the evening I smell like green sunlight.
Just add water
an epoch from now. I'll become
the next forest
BP and Bach by Garrison Keillor at NYTimes.com
I.H.T. Op-Ed Contributor - BP and Bach - NYTimes.com
(A special thanks to friend James for the editorial suggestions.)
It's a sensual vision you project into my imagination and I contrast it to the fresh tropical memory of waking up just yesterday to the roosters announcing another day in paradise, another day (our last of nine days and eight nights in Kauai) of trade winds, rainbows, forty shades of blue, and lush vegetation everywhere we looked.
ReplyDeleteSo paint on with these wonderful words and rhythms that dance on the page. I'm here to comment when you do.
Hugs from Jan
This is remarkably beautiful, Adrian. I've never been able to smell the sunlight before, but I can here.
ReplyDeleteHave you ever thought about haibun? I think the form would suit you wonderfully. If you set off your last line thus:
Just add water
an epoch from now. I'll become
the next forest
You would have a perfect haibun.
Thank you for reading, Jan and James. I'm feeling the great spirit of this place moving in my body. Finding the reserves are filling again.
ReplyDeleteHaibun, prose and haiku? I'll have to learn more. So glad you both enjoyed it.