Thursday, December 20, 2012
Wind Fall
Clock tock quick. It runs away on skinny legs. I call it back, want molasses, cheerful, skips away again. I wish to resemble myself. Too much at once spoils the soup. Winds like hounds. Decay halted. With flowers. With olden summer. Not all apples have dropped. The earth moves on. It is difficult, resists human effort. It needs to be medicated, and how.
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"Decay halted. With flowers. With olden summer."
ReplyDeleteSome months back (when there was sun about) some of the kids down our street pulled the heads off the irises and other flowers I had growing in the front to make patterns with them on the pavement.
It took a while for the rage to leave off. When it had I could see the deliberate and beautiful magic they'd worked.
This living piece brought this to mind - delicious and driven.
Thanks, thanks for reading this. You are positive. I can't always find that, but, yes, kids can be very easy to forgive after a little time has passed...
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