A little poem.
I only post this because I know I have no readers.
Empty words
Sitting sullenly at the bottom of my feet.
Empty tears
Hot and tired,
Pressed unwillingly from my eyelids
Silently.
Empty Hearts--
Lined up and waiting for each new chance to break.
Empty silence,
Quiet Regrets,
Surrounding each mistake.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I'm a Murderer
We had a really long winter this year.
I hate the winter. At first it's lovely: the snow falls and covers the earth in sheets of silence...icicles hang like icing off the roofs of houses...the wind brings color back into my ever-pale face...I get to wear warm mittens and soft scarves...and then it gets ugly. After the tenth snow day the nine feet of snow become disenchanting. It's no longer a fun challenge to clear the driveway so that I can drive to the store without getting stuck multiple times. It's too cold to go outside. It's too wet to go outside. I stay inside all day and get DEPRESSED.
But my point wasn't winter depression. My point was that during a long winter such as this past one, it's easy to forget all the fun little nuances of spring. Out of sight, out of mind, right? I mean, just because we can't see any signs of grass or leaves in the winter doesn't mean that we forget how green the earth is when spring gets here. But it's the little things we forget about. Like clovers. I forgot all about clovers. One day in early April I was walking around without my shoes on, and I felt something unusually (that word has a lot of u's) soft under my bare feet. I looked down and noticed that the ground had erupted into beds of clover. I was delighted. Clover comes in huge patches. It smells sweet, and it's softer than a pile of feathers (I don't actually understand why people are so into feathers. They're like needles with eyelashes).
Another thing that I forgot about was lightning bugs. Fireflies. I don't know where I've been these past few summers (I suppose my twilight hours have always been filled with CI rehearsals. I just assumed they didn't have fireflies in Decorah), but I forgot all about those little buggers. Now I'm free to wander around after sunset, watching hundreds of little bugs wink at me. It's almost as if they're choreagraphed, like those Christmas lights that blink in weird patterns. The lightning bugs look so happy. And they're everywhere.
I killed a lightning bug.
Just by looking at it.
I was walking...really slowly...staring at the scintillating wonders all around me, and then I noticed one in particular. He was beautiful. Maybe it was a she. I really can't tell. Anyway, I stopped to look at it, and it stopped to look at me. I smiled at it, and it winked at me with its little butt-light. Several times. Now, I'm no fool. I know what that means. The light for a lightning bug is its mating call. This insect was falling in love with me. And I'm pretty sure the feelings were mutual.
It was flying lower and lower, closer to the ground. And then it dropped. Dead. I screamed and ran along on my merry way, unbelieving that I had killed that poor, innocent creature. But then I remembered that Fireflies don't only fly, but they also walk around sometimes. This made me sigh with relief. I hadn't killed the bug; He was just tired of flying.
I walked a few more steps and then a thought occured to me.
I turned around to see if the bug had transformed itself into a handsome prince waiting on the sidewalk to whisk me away to his enchanted castle.
But he hadn't. Better luck next time.
*peace*
I hate the winter. At first it's lovely: the snow falls and covers the earth in sheets of silence...icicles hang like icing off the roofs of houses...the wind brings color back into my ever-pale face...I get to wear warm mittens and soft scarves...and then it gets ugly. After the tenth snow day the nine feet of snow become disenchanting. It's no longer a fun challenge to clear the driveway so that I can drive to the store without getting stuck multiple times. It's too cold to go outside. It's too wet to go outside. I stay inside all day and get DEPRESSED.
But my point wasn't winter depression. My point was that during a long winter such as this past one, it's easy to forget all the fun little nuances of spring. Out of sight, out of mind, right? I mean, just because we can't see any signs of grass or leaves in the winter doesn't mean that we forget how green the earth is when spring gets here. But it's the little things we forget about. Like clovers. I forgot all about clovers. One day in early April I was walking around without my shoes on, and I felt something unusually (that word has a lot of u's) soft under my bare feet. I looked down and noticed that the ground had erupted into beds of clover. I was delighted. Clover comes in huge patches. It smells sweet, and it's softer than a pile of feathers (I don't actually understand why people are so into feathers. They're like needles with eyelashes).
Another thing that I forgot about was lightning bugs. Fireflies. I don't know where I've been these past few summers (I suppose my twilight hours have always been filled with CI rehearsals. I just assumed they didn't have fireflies in Decorah), but I forgot all about those little buggers. Now I'm free to wander around after sunset, watching hundreds of little bugs wink at me. It's almost as if they're choreagraphed, like those Christmas lights that blink in weird patterns. The lightning bugs look so happy. And they're everywhere.
I killed a lightning bug.
Just by looking at it.
I was walking...really slowly...staring at the scintillating wonders all around me, and then I noticed one in particular. He was beautiful. Maybe it was a she. I really can't tell. Anyway, I stopped to look at it, and it stopped to look at me. I smiled at it, and it winked at me with its little butt-light. Several times. Now, I'm no fool. I know what that means. The light for a lightning bug is its mating call. This insect was falling in love with me. And I'm pretty sure the feelings were mutual.
It was flying lower and lower, closer to the ground. And then it dropped. Dead. I screamed and ran along on my merry way, unbelieving that I had killed that poor, innocent creature. But then I remembered that Fireflies don't only fly, but they also walk around sometimes. This made me sigh with relief. I hadn't killed the bug; He was just tired of flying.
I walked a few more steps and then a thought occured to me.
I turned around to see if the bug had transformed itself into a handsome prince waiting on the sidewalk to whisk me away to his enchanted castle.
But he hadn't. Better luck next time.
*peace*
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