Late—and I’m up sitting, thinking about trees… mind unwinding like gnarls rescinding arthritic grasps on green.
I like the ones up here—things blooming that send out wafts of cottony film, pu—lled out long over blades of grass, purple blossoms that sweet-prick noses on the way to class, and North Dakotan firs, stretching long peaks homeward, and I am stretching also; green to the touch, new fibers spindle-tangling upward, flopping forward, kneeling onward, standing still.
Today brought a moment to walk around the Coulee, and shin-grazing fronds led my eyes to a momma duck and her four ducklings escaping the thrum of my voice on the phone with a friend. Cords of fluid gleam dragged thin behind them, and with them, some of the air in my cheeks. It’s these moments that lend the firm, bendy, tree-calm to days wick-whipped from burning candles on both ends. These—and a few others, tethered to ridiculousness with new friends—Provisions for the pressure-cooker—hand-picked for our common propensities towards spontaneously combusting into silly accents and quick-deep conversations.
Gratitude consumes several minutes of every night lately, licking clean the bones of the day, leaving only the strong supports…
Posted on 16 June 2009 at 2:06 AM Comments (0)
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