Yes, another rainy day.
More than rainy,
cold needles falling from flat clouds.
It's a solid ceiling of near black flannel sky.
Wood stove fired up again.
I need some color.
Sweet William and Mindless Knitting
of another dishcloth are
brightening my space.
I step outside the kitchen,
waiting for my old Newfoundland dog
to relieve herself.
She paces back and forth,
back and forth
as if to say,
"Where should I go,
where is the toilet,
where is the exact and most perfect spot?"
I try to be patient.
After all, she deserves such respect.
I listen to the robin's song
and marvel at how
such dour and bland little birds
can send such a lovely
and heart wrenching song
out in to the air.
They always amaze me,
these harbingers of Spring and Summer.
There is such beauty in their voice,
a marvelous motet of joy.
When I see them hopping
on the ground
searching for worms,
they are so serious and intentional.
I picture the males
as having pocket protectors,
brief case under one wing,
and perhaps a spotted bow tie about their throats.
I imagine the females
clutching a carpet beater
or a duster,
one dimensional in their bounce
to and fro.
All seriousness and no fun.
But, I listen to their joyous notes,
their love songs for the season
and the world that they inhabit,
and I wonder.
Even on this gray, grey day
when I need to light the lamps at four o'clock
I can go outside
and stand under the eaves
and see the notes of song
they fling onto the flannel sky.
Rose red, sunflower yellows
blueberry and Gentian blues,
the whiteness and brightness
of untraveled snow,
greens as glowing as early summer grass,
and the brightness of Sweet Williams
and mindless knitting,
button holed and feathered on to the low firmament.
Wishing you a bright and sunny week.