May 24, 2012

Overcast and getting deeper, gray blooming up and erasing the pale and paler blue.  This morning the air swings between breezes, still then movement, over and over.  The yard the same shade of shadow, everything darker, even the cane subdued.  The heron statue dark as thunder, evenly sounded.  A flash between clouds lights up the yard for a minute, sunlight so clear by contrast, and bright enough to make you squint, then it vanishes, back to shadow.  A morning unsettled . . .

A Light Breather

The spirit moves,
Yet stays:
Stirs as a blossom stirs,
Still wet from its bud-sheath,
Slowly unfolding,
Turning in the light with its tendrils;
Plays as a minnow plays,
Tethered to a limp weed, swinging
Tail around, nosing in and out of the current,
Its shadows loose, a watery finger;
Moves, like the snail,
Still inward,
Taking and embracing its surroundings,
Never wishing itself away,
Unafraid of what it is,
A music in a hood,
A small thing,
Singing.

Theodore Roethke 

A hummingbird has been coming to the water bowl, never resting on the edge, just dipping its long beak in and flying away.  The water level has dropped until the bird disappears into the bowl, then rises up, a gray blur that hangs a moment, then vanishes.  So many experiences are momentary, perhaps that is why we try to capture them, try to keep them just a little longer, the bird's whir of wings, the early song of mockingbird, the in and out of sunlight in the yard, the pair of cardinals swooping down and landing together on a slender branch that bends alarmingly under their weight, the sound of cicadas chirring in their uneven rhythm, the distant roar of jets fading away, leaving a momentary silence.   All for a moment, all the small things singing, or turning in the light, or unfolding right before my eyes.  And for a moment, when the sunlight bursts again into the back yard for that instant of brightness, I know what that poet meant . . .I'm a light breather!