Wednesday, April 21, 2010

whenever we may find

Dearest love, D is in Hudson for a couple of hours so I have the car. I have taken myself to Olana and am sitting at a picnic table overlooking an expansive, greening vista with low blue hills behind. It is a spectacular day, sunny, with a soft breeze that stirs the trees, and the air where I sit is fragrant with - what? - something. I thought maybe lilacs but don't see any, but there is a wild overgrown shrub of some sort blooming white in front of me - it may be that. A bee investigates. Now I see - it's a felled tree, apple perhaps, trunk split but the tree not dead - still blooming.

I have felt restless today, perhaps with this fine weather. Dirty dishes are still in the sink but I did some weeding - I'll try to do a little each day. The dandelions seem particularly muscular this year though they pull easily enough. I took two walks this morning, one at the conservation area (bleak thoughts about involuntary celibacy made me briefly sob), and the second, after weeding; after sitting at the computer wondering what to write; after wondering whether to reply to you but really having in my mind only to say thanks for replying quickly and it was good to hear from you; after listening to Art Garfunkel sing For Emily Whenever I May Find Her; after reading and puzzling over Emily's three "Master" letters; after jotting down the words, "For Master whenever I may find him"; after snacking on cold chicken, taboulleh salad and an oatmeal cookie; after walking across the road to check for mail; after considering lying down (before noon, too early) - I decided to take a walk over to where D was working this morning, at the artist's property across the creek. I took the shortcut through the churchyard and down the woodland ridge trail, made my way up
the busy hairpin highway (nervewracking to drive but with its wide shoulders a doable walk), photographed beautiful wildflowers that few can ever see (else they'd crash), turned onto the charming hamlet road, passed a house owned by (no kidding, a wood sign proclaimed) The Stalkers, walked up the driveway, came upon the scene, startled, and got my eyeful. They were finishing up for the morning so my timing was good. I got a ride back.

Oh, there is lilac - I've just spotted it - white lilac - not even so many blooms - but so potent --

For Master whenever I may find him
You did not come to me in white
perhaps because I asked
I'm forever wearing white - no, baring all
I understand the neighbor child's desire to wear no clothes
enjoy an unfiltered state
so paradoxical
your heart is under lock & key
the page loads to speak for themselves

-- a complete absence of any wish or regard or anything for me --

on my walk at the conservation area bleak thoughts
about involuntary celibacy
I didn't choose to be a nun
I didn't take a vow of celibacy
to be reinforced with a cloistered life
Nuns choose their celibate lives. I didn't.

On the radio now ... the girls in Ypsilanti...

No comments:

Post a Comment