Would You Date a Dragon

Mama cardinal preens in the lilac bush after her dip in the creek. This and other white-picket moments. The wanting of “elsewhere” means what exactly? I imagine rusting barn door hinges and thinning rafters, birds making nests in the eaves, the smell of old hay. Instead, I know the distinct musk of seaweed caught in rocks along the lake shore at dawn. Purple Martins skim the stills of memory before lifting into their roost under the boat hoist canopy.

Dad made us clean the boat but did not allow us to get it dirty. Remembering this raises a tide of ire or a sense of injustice. But justice is not penalty. Judge not and you will waken.

Roller derby, hard cider, library friendships. The ability to discuss the depths of anything from Shakespeare to “would you date a dragon” is new.

The one who needs nothing, takes nothing. So now what? Turn the compost pile; weed the garden; pour a brimful cup of mindful tea. I do not arrive anywhere. This is the moral of the story. Butterflies and bees visit the wilding patch and without warning, the area where my heart lives spills heat all over my insides.

These letters – these faint inscriptions upon found stones – what choice do I have but to keep offering the intercourse of my truth? Frogs and crickets laugh saying, “well, you could just not.”