Birdsong and Window Lace

I like to write a preamble to my creative work. Usually done after writing the work itself and placed up front as an intro, this time -- a post-script instead.  Just to say here: I love the creative freedom of vacation, and this good life.

Window cover in off-white lace

with no hint of breeze to show it open 

to that possibility, this June day--still a.m. here. 

But traffic on Avenue H says so: It's open. It's morning. 

Birdsong only in my recall of yesterday a.m.  

And just a Robin and Sparrows collude. 

But better than today in that way. 

Where are they--that quartet? 

At home she has a Mourning Dove 

resting in joy and delight at her words of love 

in vines green, and color. The light. But here, not even 

a Crow.  Oh. Wait!  As if my thought brought it to my morning. 

A cooing.  Gently.  Lonely and afar.  With traffic  

and chatter of House Sparrows.  Perfectly 

rendered from a different yesterday. 

And mine. Not Crow, but 

a Mourning Dove. 

And a gentle wave of lace.

Postscript

Rest of vacation. Or from it. Never perfect, but full and rich. I rest and write to Marily’s breathing after reading and relaxing to sleep again. Another good day ahead. Hopefully not too much play. R-n-R is what we make it.

Recalling thoughts of days ago in stress and schedule, and post on Facebook, the dove... Now birdsong. Each note or orchestration is really just for me -- each of us.  I hear it differently than you or they. Direction. Deflection. Distance and ambient happening.  All sound and events, all images in light--adjusted by aspect and attributes of heart.

It’s all a song unique to each soul. And healing and stretching and growing. Can even delete the past and paint a new beginning. Color and light. The song and dance of this moment.  

She breathes. The traffic. Birdsong and window lace.

© 2013 Ardi Keim 6/10/13