A Resting State
In some strange blue green aurora borealis kind of way
my days are an aged book
I smell of leather bindings
spine dented
I noticed my own fingernails
tuck them under
Try not to get distracted by vanity
The O'clock is ticking down the hall
Its a grandfather clock shipped here
from my childhood
How it got here is a long story
The piano is here as well
another sordid tale .....trailing ....notes behind it
My Mother's jewelry is upstairs hidden away in strange choice places
I can't wear it
She didn't want me to have it
In the kitchen there are cookie molds hanging on the wall
If my mother had her say I wouldn't own them either
But
My mother doesn't have a say anymore
Pictures of my parents as Beautiful
are on my table
as homage
They are telling stories
But not the truth
The floorboards of my 1775 house are from a time when trees
grew stronger bigger wider larger ...more dense
Many Hurricane's have come through here but it stood fast in time
A tornado came through two years ago
So many trees fell during that storm
that
I picked up branches and stuffed them in the back of my car
(You wouldn't believe how many trees and tree limbs you can fit in the back of a car)
I picked up trees ..branches and leaves
and drove them time and time again to the town dump
It took eight crews to clear my land after the storm
and when we were done.. a vision
of a river that I didn't even know was there
I watch white birds loft on the wind over the river and trees
I am filled with bright hope
a Morning Dove made a nest in my window box
she has had four sets of babies this summer
Eight tiny babies
.....on my watch
I say "Hi bird" whenever I pass by
Just Once
I reached out
and patted her and she let me!
But I won't do it again
I fill a small clam shell with water and put it beside her
She ruffles her feathers
I see her actually lift up her body to show off her eggs sometimes
They are a bright white and seem to glow
I see pride in her eyes...She looks at me as if to say
"Do you see what I have done?!"
"These are my children and with them I am very pleased"
Just before the day when the babies are forced to leave the nest
I hear her cooing
and they coo in return
The next day I see them under a bush
and
the next
They are gone
So I run my hand over the leather binding
The clock ticks
The piano plays
and soon enough the morning dove lays eggs again
I watch the sunset
Loving how the Sun casts sideways and illuminates the world
Copyright © Ingrid Showalter Swift | Year Posted 2022
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