Ode to November: Make It A Meal Worth Having
Let me celebrate you now as you stand before me
while you can still hear the cheer.
Don’t let me wait until you’re gone to be fond.
Don’t let fear of embarrassment stifle my delight.
How the worry of
impending shame leads us
to talk about love only when there can be no
response.
Derision is so easy to dispense and a brickbat is so easy to
receive,
an acknowledgement of what our self-loathing knew already.
We
fumble and blush when praised or when praising,
waiting to be caught
out, rejected.
I loved their book. I loved their art. I loved their
mind.
I loved them - past tense.
It's hard not to fear the present, hard to
be present,
hard not to bend under cynical stare,
but to keep the
volume of things unsaid,
the regrets of silence as thin as they can be.
Let them take up little space on the shelf in your head.
Don't be
afraid of joy.
Don't fear showing your love.
Don't conceal yourself for
so long that
eventually you can no longer be found.
And all of this I
said in my head as you walk by,
but not anymore.
Not anymore.
I love
the bones of you. ~ Robin Ince
Wherein I went to a Swing Dance where they had a wonderful live band, and danced the night away. Watched another sunrise, mesmerized by a large wave cloud, when I heard what sounded like rain behind me, but it was a flock of birds...standing still, hearing their wings was exhilarating and beautiful. broke
my arm on a hike, but continued to watch the sunset before driving
myself to the ED. A week later, I drove one handed to Raptor-fest where I held a sweet little burrowing owl and I can't quite
find words for the joy of that. Soaked in the moody skies and changing
leaves in SNP with my long awaited lifetime pass. I saved up for a fairly decent espresso machine, and I don't know how I've lived without it all these years and survived on mock-lattes.
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| Broken Humerus 11/2 |
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| Sling on my right wing, owl on the left. |
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