Poleward Coherence

Poverty of all but spirit turns up love like aces
That weren't in the deck at all.

The cadence of McGrath – his harmony – an expression I cannot relay.

I push hard against my body's desire to be awake at night and sleep in day. New routines replace what used to work and I cling to the life raft accordingly. The shore hooks around like a question mark leaving part of the view obscured. Yet I keep it in view the best that I can.

Maybe chocolate cake before bed is not the best idea.

Around a tall table at the brewery, four of us lobbed family baggage into the air like rouge travelers pitching themselves into a moving train car. I could hold down my meal but was less successful at shielding any static in my regulation. My social units were devoured in one sitting, so I retreated home to spend the afternoon in blanketed barracks. Though I do not lack grace, I do keep an ace of judgement up my sleeve.

Inky pine trees pierce Orion's belt in full view of a perfect moon. Walking in this light leads me beyond wars, destruction, and unkindly borders. My menstrual cycle syncs with the full moon and my every cell seems to sing in poleward coherence. True North marries all points of the compass and True North is where I am.

I'm remembering how to dance amongst transparent faces and I could use a little more practice. Sure, dubiety but also . . . I'm dancing!

Yesterday, under clear blue October skies, I picked the last tomatoes and kale for a mid-day salad. In two dark green camping chairs, one facing the other as a foot rest, I tilted everything skyward, as no thing came to mind.

Ah, so this is happiness.