If I should write of the wind…

If I should write of the wind

Until my hands are sweetly sore

And the ink in my quill has all dried up

Until it isn’t anymore,

I wonder if my windy words

Would soon begin to bore…

But then…I pause to ponder love

That has been written so dearly of

A thousand, thousand times before

How love once true never tires

Of climbing its towering castle spires

Laced with delicious phrases

Edged in luscious mazes

Of many a moment

Tenderly spent…

Why then should the wind,

Be any different

As gusty he sweeps

and blustery he blows

Lifting me high from off my toes

I need not touch

The sturdy ground below

As He tickles away my fear

To softly declare in my listening ear

All the beautiful wheres

That ever we shall go

All because…the wispy wind does blow,

Rather the same as love I muse

If the wind is such

And love is more and much

Why then should life be any other way…

Than to carry me in the very heart of it

And rock me slow in passion’s sway…

****

ellie894 August 2018

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Beauty Between Dreams

In fairy tales and dreams we bestow things with life! The most delicate flower and the most grizzled bear take on a contentment or a sorrow that mirrors our own. We cry and laugh with them, as we see ourselves.

I love this spot, just here, where the meadow gives way to the forest. On a hot summer day it offers the respite of cool shade. In the midst of rain it promises shelter. In moments of despair it is safe to let go of my tears. And, in times of sheer joy…I dance as the faeries do…unseen, unbidden, and all the more brilliant for it…

See the timbers lining either side of the path drawing you forward. They have been waiting in that same spot for a long time now. At least three seasons have come and gone. I don’t recall the first day they came to be here. But I do remember wondering why. I decided they were probably meant for the pier, some freshening up.

Winter covered them in a pristine blanket of snow. Spring burst forth with flowers in every hue darting up between them. Summer days are still upon us, dusty and hot and buzzing with dragonflies. The timbers wait. The pier waits. And so, of course my thoughts turn to waiting.

How much of our life do we spend in waiting…all of it, really. I imagine there are a few dear souls that embrace the now so completely that they are exempt from the waiting that fills my days and nights. I have much to learn from them.

As I think again of the timbers, I giggle. To write that they are waiting somehow gives them character and personality. How often do we do that as well, imbue life and voice to things that cannot speak for themselves. Don’t get me started on Toy Story 3! I will absolutely not go there!

When I was a very little girl I had a beloved Raggedy Ann doll. She had shiny black eyes under triangle lashes and hidden beneath her calico dress was a red heart in just the right place that declared…I love you… I never went to sleep without her tucked securely into the crook of my arm, hugged tightly against me.

I imagined that she waited for me as well. When I was away she rested on my pillow ready to greet me with a smile upon my return. I always did return. I loved her so long and so hard that her face began to wear away. I can still see the blue threads underneath. I grew afraid to hold her…that my love would cause her harm…

My dear Mimi came to the rescue with a gentle and skilled hand. The waiting was awful! But soon enough Raggedy and I were back to our nightly snuggles.

Ellie and Jack, Bo and Dobby watch my every move with eager anticipation. Keys mean that I’m leaving them behind. A resigned sadness seems to descend on them that makes me want to stay. Whereas, phone in my back pocket and earbuds nearly drives them through the roof with excitement! Shoes tied…check. Bag of bread…check. Little white rectangle box…aka phone…check. Long white chord attached to ears…we don’t really get it but…it’s something she seems to like…so…check! Aargh! We’re going walking! Right this second! Jaw in paw waiting…all worth it!

A few weeks ago I dreamed of a time and a place spent in a brilliant pause before what would come next. I was taken ahead not left behind. It was the sort of dream that leaves me wishing that I could photograph the images that light up my own night sky. Perhaps I’ll play with my words until I get it all just so and share it…but for now it isn’t ready…

It’s not a bad thing. A thousand times before it has been written – we live in the waiting.

Some waiting is so much harder than others it seems. Maybe. We fight at it instead of resting in it. I don’t know what it is that you wait for…

the reassuring smile of your beloved…

cookies warm from the oven…

the tiniest egg to hatch with new life…

your train to arrive…

a glass of wine to be shared…

the gate to open wide before your eager paws…

a sigh of grateful relief…

rain to fall or skies to clear…

sweet news from afar…

the melody of song to fill your heart…

your best friend to be repaired…

or simply the next breath to come…

Ever so gently and quietly beauty waits for us as we dance between dreams and responsibilities.

In the brightness of a summer day when the stars have gone to shine elsewhere, will you wait with me in the cool shade of a grand and silent tree…

In the darkness of a winter night when the sun burns far away, will you wait with me in the glow of a warm and crackling fire…

In the heart of waiting there is love…always, there is love…

Will you wait with me…

****

ellie894 August 2018

Thank you to my dear friend G for the photograph of the train station in loving memory of my father.

long lemonade days…

I was awake for a long while in the night, traveling my thoughts…

When I finally fell into sleep I found myself nearly a part of the sky. I swayed with the motion of the air, a vast ocean waiting so very far below to catch me if I should tumble…and rock me amongst the cresting waves…

So it is that I am tired and a little lost in the cool woods this morning. They wrap around me gently, rather like a long hoped for embrace…a well worn path, the sandy spots full of ant lion funnels, and the alcove where the creek begins to form the lake from a spring that truly never ends…

It took me three rounds before Jack and Bo would settle enough to sit and wonder at lakeside. It is cooler than it should be for the first of August in Texas! I will just be grateful. Very grateful… There are at least two more months of heat ahead.

I am ever so sad when the words don’t come…when they float just out of reach so that I cannot quite gather them…or they hide altogether, crushed under last year’s leaves.

The birds are not singing. Perhaps they are as parched and quiet as I am. The flowers have disappeared as the dry days follow one upon another. August has arrived to simmer and stew all once more, in the laziness of iced tea and long lemonade days spent in the shady rhythm of a back porch swing.

I lift my eyes to the shelter of the pines and beyond them to the blue that begs to be explored. Softness cradles my heart. I love the way morning sun catches in a spider’s web making it glisten with the magic of a day yet to be lived and a night left behind in shadow.

Later it may all give way to a whispered breeze that breaks the silence of a hot afternoon. The ice gladly melts, leaving trails of abandoned moisture to race upon the clear cold glass.

And so, my thoughts turn to tales as they so often do…there is something special about August reading though…to abandon oneself to a story well told, captivating in every detail. When the cicadas hum and buzz in sleepy cadence and the birds cannot bring themselves to share… I want to listen… I want to still my heart and soul… I want to read…to get lost in reading…

I revel in precious books I’ve held a thousand times! Their worded treasure has become a part of me. And yet, the adventure of the new beckons me forth to the cliff’s edge…let go of the jagged rocks he calls! Take to the sky she echoes… take to the sky… and discover your wings…

And, what of love you ask…where does it reside in the dog days of summer…where it will I suppose…as love always finds a way…just as the light catches in the simplest of places to give the promise of something more…so too does love…to sweeten the lemonade and frost the glass…and just when you think you can’t take another sweltering moment…

the breeze stirs from across the water and within your heart…sending ripples of hope right through to the edges of you…where day dawns and night falls and you sail into the horizon of your sweetest dreams…come true…

****

ellie894 August 1, 2018