Confused and Beautiful Hearts

Slept poorly, rousted twice by the dog who was rousted by . . . what? Let her out the front door and stood waiting by the damp lilacs while she raced through the fields and forest, coming back with her tongue drooping from her jaws. Bear probably, as nothing else could excite such chase nor, probably, actually get away.

And later again pulled from the brink of sleep as the neighbors lost another chicken, its cries loud and hoarse, fading into the field until suddenly they stopped. This time I simple stood dumbly on the patio, leaning on the post (on which a broken weather stick still hangs), tired and sad.

All animals are hunters or gatherers or both or so it struck me, once sleep was gone for good and I sat on the floor, a blanket over my shoulders, pretending to pray. Humans have commerce. I began mentally drafting an email to J. on the subject, then grew tired. A novel is brewing, too, and other projects, including teaching, for all of which I am grateful.

Finally came to at nine o’clock, loud thumping bass from the landscaper’s truck as he pulled aside Lyn’s yard and unloaded his mower. S. had already gotten up to do chores that I had promised to get to in her stead – and just now I recall that I was to make muffins this morning but am already here in the basement with my coffee beginning a day’s writing – so I just yawned and stretched my way through good morning and one game of Connect Four. C. leaves later to meet a client in prison and I have in mind taking the kids to search for quartz, if only we can avoid the mosquitos.

I miss these five paragraph prose poems, feel them as being necessary somehow. The search for the right words – when so many are available to come spilling over the psychic transom – is a joy of its own. Yesterday N. gave a name to the chickadee’s two-note spring song, the one I am so good at emulating, which makes the kids laugh. It is a mating song – “feed me, feed me.” On which note I leave to refill the coffee, peel some garlic bulbs and have breakfast. Brothers and sisters reading this: peace to your confused and beautiful hearts, as to mine. We’ll get there.

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