May 22, 2012

A strong breeze is coming from the west this morning, everything moving especially the cane.  The clouds have dissolved into sheer white over the blue, making the sunlight softer.  The yard is quiet, no manic mockingbirds this morning, just a lot of shadows and and some smaller birds cheeping in the crepe myrtle.  Perhaps all the other birds have found mates by now and are quietly nesting. 

Some days don't start with a smile and something in the very air makes you feel jumpy and cross.  Whatever it is, I have no patience this morning.  I'm going directly to find a poem and see if that won't make a difference.
 
Mind Wanting More

Only a beige slat of sun
above the horizon, like a shade pulled
not quite down.  Otherwise,
clouds.  Sea rippled here and
there.  Birds reluctant to fly.
The mind wants a shaft of sun to
stir the grey porridge of clouds,
an osprey to stitch sea to sky
with its barred wings, some dramatic
music: a symphony, perhaps
a Chinese gong. 

But the mind always
wants more than it has --
one more bright day of sun,
one more clear night in bed
with the moon; one more hour
to get the words right; one
more chance for the heart in hiding
to emerge from its thicket
in dried grasses -- as if this quiet day
with its tentative light weren't enough,
as if joy weren't strewn all around. 

Holly Hughes 

It does seem this morning that my mind wants more of something, I just wish I knew what it was, something dramatic would be good, or one more hour to come up with some better words, or perhaps the egret to come back and bring its white peace into the morning.  I don't know, some days are just restless and aching for something that I can't even identify.  Some days the cicada's sound is not a pleasant background to the heat of the day, but an annoying buzz kind of like one cricket that gets in and sings its one-note song loudly and for hours in the dead of night.   Even my eternal fascination with how fast the cane grows this morning finds nothing but uneasiness in that, as if its constant search for territory is something dreadful.

All right, there are enough joys strewn around to make a difference.  It is sunny, not raining or gloomy, there are small birds out there making the rounds of their day.  The cat is lying in the sun, without a care in the world, warm and sleepy.  People are still going to work, all the school buses have gone now with their loads of restless kids here near the end of school.  Mikayla will be home today and we are going out, out to errands, and to the craft store, just out!  Perhaps we will go by the nursery and get a new bird bowl!  The day will go on with it's unnerving out-of-sortness and joys will be discovered and even things out <chuckle>  Well, I can hope, yes? <grin>