September Stillness
<< 6:56 p.m. - Friday, Sept. 26, 2003 >>
"Well, the sun's not so hot in the sky today
And you know I can see summertime slipping on away
A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft as a feather in a featherbed
So I'll be king and you'll be queen
Our kingdom's gonna be this little patch of green

Won't you lie down here right now
In this September grass
Won't you lie down with me now
September grass"

If anything, this exile has granted me a change of pace. A complete rest. I�m musing under the hot sun, walking the forty blocks to my home, with sweat under the strap of my backpack. And really, and honestly, I feel let go. Summer�s carelessness comes back to me in ways I forgot. I put up the tent in the backyard last night and slept under the green fabric and meshed night sky. Good, whole, comfortable aloneness. Listening to those Quaking Aspens that sound so much like rain.

I forgot my heart and walked away from the pieces that plague me. Sometimes I love living in these artful fragments of motion. Slept again in my tent this afternoon, sprawled over the blankets I didn�t need. And woke up to lawn mowers and barking dogs. Watching summer wind down. Watching my environment change without me. I�m not in a rut. I just tripped while staring at the sky and laughed and moved on. The change will come whether or not I seek it.

"Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? That's you and me,
We're so small and the world's so vast"

If you'd like a snail mail letter, tell me and I'll write you one. The words are all waiting in my head. La Princesa (Rocker Butterfly) sent me a note with amber perfume and I sent her one with honeysuckle flowers. Sent Tiny one with a sixth grade picture of myself to laugh ourselves silly at. These darling friends I have.