I watched the Atlantic Ocean fog follow me as I drove home from the rheumatologist’s office.  Good news, normal liver enzyme functions on the blood work report.  The vapor had traveled inland, followed me home. And like a good witch, I nestled between the sheets, pillows plumped and adjusted to my joints’ specifications-just so-a relieved exhale buttered my muscles and hazed my mind.

I saw myself sitting in my office.  Not my current home office with the flat screen monitor facing the front yard view of taxis shrubs, holly sapling and ink berry bushes the mocking birds and catbirds delightfully snack upon. 

The other home office with a floor to ceiling wall of glass facing the open waters.  A full view of turquoise, periwinkle sea. 

Cloudless sky frames the upper portion of my picture windows.  My glass desk with chrome has a wireless tablet.  I place my lit cigarette in a clear glass ashtray.  Smoke ringlets form and I type away.  His hand touches my shoulder.  He does that frequently, whoever he is-just gently, ever so gently touches me on the right shoulder from behind.  I heard bells. 

So here I sit on the green couch in the living room looking out of the window viewing the dogwood branches wiggling from wind and rain, writing down the vision of the clear sea, the clear sky and the clear goal.

Oh, I can hardly wait for the next fog that rolls from the Atlantic Ocean, to my home and to my dreams.

I love Peter Gabriel and believe this video to be all inclusive and moving. Remember with open hearts for all who perished, survived, lost loved one’s, lived on and those who suffer from disabling and debilitating First Responder Health Issues…..

Thunderstorm dumps formidable drops.

A Pulitzer Winner reads on campus tonight.

I drive past Lot 7, turn into the blue space;

too sore to climb curbs, plot my way towards the ramp.

People trot ahead- just behind, heels pound water,

“I miss my temporary handicapped sticker, being closer on nasty nights like these,”

petite girl with sheep-lined hoodie, black umbrella, flashes a smile my way.

The remark strikes hot. My first thought,

I miss needing one!  But I couldn’t say it.  It was a lie. 

I have needed blue spaces my entire life – and therefore could not, truly, miss them. 

As missing implies having had something like

 the space between you and a beloved friend’s head stone.

I wonder why she pines over blue space. 

I am moved to ask but she is twenty yards past me.

Swans seem unaware of their above sea level status. They haven’t heard their own fairy tales highlighting their perceived gifts of grace, powers of transformation and all consuming beauty. Dining etiquette has never warranted a story line in any Swan legend to date.

If they realized they had a reputation to uphold, would female swans ask their lifetime mates if their asses look big in the reflective fresh water pool? And would male swans lie to keep the peace by making up some pseudo-scientific explanation about angle of the winter sun over the flow rate of the river expanding the illusionary circumference of their mates’ fair feathered derrieres?

Were Swans aware of their own omnipotence, would they care about their seemingly undignified table manners? Would they alter their natural way of eating or being to be on this planet – simply to be a swan?

Or would they decide appearances and reputation be damned- a swan’s gotta eat!

 My soul lullaby.

Piano sharp notes

Tap crisp precision

Sweet, Summer Solstice

Darkens – drifts away.

fire within her

flash burns from past

lighting inner eyes

masked like a raccoon

her smile hides cracked lips

corners of her mouth

torn;  difficult birth

painful reminders

of fury’s silence

she can not hide from

herself; bury hot fury

afraid her inner

jaguar’s precise claw

to jugular kills prey

spew molten blood

an elective mute

holding onto floss

praying inner-deer

arrives, rage at bay

until one clean swipe

frees pent-up wild roars

***

I wrote this poem five years ago. With the heat surge, weather and non-weather related, the poem caught my temperamental eye this morning.  I used to suppress anger–had ignored the reaction altogether. As I grow older, my fierceness graces with tempered flair.

I discovered a video encapsulating this poem.  Doesn’t such synchronicity blow your mind into smithereens

Have a look see……….

ARKive - Jaguar video – Panthera onca - 08j.

flash burns from past
lighting inner eyes

masked like a raccoon
her smile hides cracked lips

corners of her mouth
torn; difficult birth

painful reminders
of fury’s silence

she can not hide from
herself; bury hot fury

afraid her inner
jaguar’s precise claw

to jugular kills prey
spew molten blood;

an elective mute
holding onto floss

praying inner-deer
arrives, rage at bay

until one clean swipe
frees pent up wild roars

I highly recommend you check out the Avatar FB Fan Page anytime but especially today

It’s been one year since Avatar first came out on Blu-ray/DVD, and we want to celebrate with you! Host an Avatar viewing party with all of your friends, post photos of costumes and menu suggestions to share with the world. It’s also EARTH DAY, so make sure to be as green as you can be! If you’d like to help celebrate Avatar and Earth Day even more, check out http://www.avatarmovie.com/hometree/ and be part of a worldwide effort to plant over a million trees! It’s been one year since Avatar first came out on Blu-ray/DVD, and we want to celebrate with you! Host an Avatar viewing party with all of your friends, post photos of costumes and menu suggestions to share with the world. It’s also EARTH DAY, so make sure to be as green as you can be! If you’d like to help celebrate Avatar and Earth Day even more, check out http://www.avatarmovie.com/hometree/ and be part of a worldwide effort to plant over a million trees!

I own an ‘Avatar’ DVD.  I love movies and yet, I only own five.  There are perhaps one or two other flicks I’d purchase but it’s Spring and I am cleaning out the clutter.  Once I’ve completed my Spring-Cleaning endeavor, which is a constant Work-In-Progess, I will have extra storage.  I still have VHS tapes!

Here is a list of the movies I own:

1. Avatar

2. The Matrix

3. Little Miss Sunshine

4. The Man from Snowy River

5. Music & Lyrics

I’d like to add ‘Love Actually.’  The begining is a tear jerker for sure, so have tissues handy at the get go.

So head over to Avatar FaceBook Fan Page and see what you can do to embrace the strong theme of this epic film and help this epic planet!

Happy Earth Day!

Inside the Bloom of a Daffodil

Kaleidoscope of yellow
inside trumpeted bloom of a daffodil.

Green frames the central foundation
like mountain hillsides of Wales

where Old Lady Jones
stands at rivers edge, arms stretch upward;

as a priestess touches
treetops touching sky.

She sings in Welsh, her native tongue.
Notes resound: just as crickets

enchant lovers underneath
the infinite blanket of black

Ancient ferns sway in concert.
Sacred song shapes woodland together;

river rocks glow as sunbeams
share water sharing stone

as easily as time flows through
the blood of a daffodil.

Grandma's Daffodils

One tree.

One sentinel tree.

The grasses and flexible flowers swirled like a whirlwind, gently rotating
counter-clockwise. The tree protected by tall green grasses and pure white starry blooms.

I thought of ‘Little House on the Prairie’ opening credits. The shot began with a wide lens, a lone tree atop a hill adorned with multi-colored wildflowers. Next the shot narrowed to Laura, scooting down the hill, her dog, Jack surpassed her past lens leaving the viewer with Laura Ingalls’ wide smile and celluloid joy. Her open arms lifted up like a ‘little witch in the making’ conjuring wind.

The tree was long forgotten and never mentioned in the rolling credits.

Yet, I recall a multitude of episodes wherein the tree headlined as the primary environmental character for a scene. Perhaps the tree was not the same one, top-billing in the introduction but the presence of nature was unavoidable and utilized creatively as a setting for Laura to work out inner-conflicts, gather youthful troops to revolutionize, to empathize, to catapult change.

The tree shined as a steady consort for Mary to experience her first kiss and a perfect hiding spot to leave her unsightly, expensive glasses.

In the final episode, the town was blown into smithereens; shards of Hollywood glass, wooden splinters, handcrafted metal, and red clouds of dry dirt spun across our television screen. Townspeople chained arm-in-arm with a specific country pride amidst the unfortunate chaos the future promised.

Walnut Grove began and ended as a community arm-in-arm underneath the church bell – rebels at heart. Underneath women’s baskets, girl’s pigtails, boy’s caps and men’s calloused hands – nearsighted rebels at the core.

The trees in town were spared untimely death.

The lone tree atop the hill was spanned as the family caravaned out of Walnut Grove.

I wonder if it was a walnut tree.

Google ‘symbolism of walnut tree’ and see what sprouts up.

Spring is here, listen as the trees awaken.