Under Tented Beliefs

We split an elephant ear and talked about draft horses as rain muttered from the corners of the tent. I hate the fair. Too many people paying too much money to eat too much crap and watch too many animals pant and sweat in too many cages. How strange the places we find ourselves when trading discipline for the decadence of impulse! Though, somehow this was better, the drizzled twist of a dampened chaos.

Later from the back room, I watch an apricot grin fight through the gunmetal sky. A fiercely guarded aloneness means marking territory with warnings and “do not disturb” signs and snarling teeth if one must. The world is living me without my permission, and it's taking a toll. Not until the day is carefully folded and put away do I tend to remember the easy path through the borderlands. Even a citizen can be an immigrant from time to time.

But how grateful I was this morning for her talk of visiting birds and then again, with the aching poetry of chirps and presence! There is mystery in this stricken chord. And for an eternal moment I am perfectly content to listen without the accompaniment of why why why.

under tented beliefs I crawl for a song - cardinals in the rain