A cluster of thoughts
attack my brain
all at once,
and though I once thought I’d have liked to shut them up
I’ve learned to appreciate the visual stimulation that the silent, incessant babbling provides me with.
I’ve been searching for a muse (my muse) everywhere,
but sometimes the seasons provide that for me, instead, until one has presented itself.
anything which has been everything
and which has never ceased
to fill up my insides
is a tickling, bubbly, bright-eyed, and curious kind of joy
as I realize the flowers of spring will be blossoming soon;
so I pick up the blooming dandelions in my yard
and I think ...perhaps I will wish on this
and blow the seeds into the heavy winds that are whipping at my hair and face,
but before I do
I twirl them around and around
and I spin in circles
with my eyes closed
and the sun is heating every inch of my skin
and I think to myself,
the neighbors will wonder who this crazy girl is,
but then I shrug it off
and imagine they would be spinning and enjoying the taste of such a delicate day, too,
and besides, why should I care?
I’m just giving thanks to he who created such heavenly wonder
and I bet he is up in the endless heavens
and blowing on dandelion seeds
wondering where they will land
and reproducing more beautiful offspring.
Maybe this year I’ll plant my own garden;
how nice that would be--
to plant a garden
of flowers and grass?
How many bright, fluttering butterflies would they attract?
And what if I put the hammock back up;
and as I scribbled hopeless thoughts into the late hours of afternoon
on some weekend I had free,
what if the butterflies swarmed around me
and one decided to kiss the top of my nose
or the curls on my head again?
Wouldn’t that be a most pleasant surprise?
I could buy a fountain
and run my fingers under cool, dripping water
when I got too hot,
and beautiful baby birds would fly by
and dip down
to cool off, too.
They would sing a sweet song
into this crazy combination of weather
and perhaps the birds and the butterflies would collide
and compliment one another on the beauty of one's sound
and the beauty of one's sight
and as the bird stoops down to sip on nectar
from the flowers in my garden
a bee would buzz near,
and instead of fighting over the nectar
they take turns
and share it,
and what a wonderful garden of love and life that would be ..
We shall see.
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