Thursday, May 23, 2002
A walk last night, just before dusk. Just over to another addition with some not-yet-developed lots, where a little woods still stands, probably not long for this world. But thank goodness, nature doesn't know that, for look what we saw: A lone, elegant jack-in-the-pulpit, light green, tall. One trillium, fading but still pink. A grove of mayapples, big white blooms hiding underneath. And the columbine--orange-red, their heads drooping as if ashamed of their beauty. Solomon's seal. A fragrant light-blue flower, clusters of them, with thin leaves--I don't know the name and couldn't find it in my book. But lovely--I brought a small bunch home; there were lots.
We heard a woodpecker high in the trees. And better--a killdeer on a ground-nest of three blue-green-black marble eggs, refusing to leave as we drew closer, beeping at us, drawing itself up high and fanning its tail. Geometric white-and-black stripes around its neck; its' tail fan showing light red as it stretched out to scare us away. We took a look, then backed away. Such a small woods; so much to see.
Height by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
When I was young I felt so small
And frightened, for the world was tall.
And even grasses seemed to me
A forest of immensity,
Until I learned that I could grow
A glance would leave them far below.
Spanning a tree's height with my eye,
Suddenly I soared as high;
And fixing on a star I grew,
I pushed my head against the blue!
Still, like a singing lark, I find
Rapture to leave the grass behind.
And sometimes standing in a crowd
My lips are cool against a cloud.
Sometimes I catch a ride on a bird's back--and fly above the trees, the houses, the people, seeing them from some lowly sparrow's perspective. And it's wonderful.
From Bring Me a Unicorn by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
[Her first flight with Charles Lindbergh]
Suddenly I felt the real sensation of going up--a great lift, like a bird, like one's dreams of flying--we soared in layers. That lift that took your breath away--there it was again! I had real and intense consciousness of flying. I was overjoyed. Then for the first time I looked down. We were high above fields, and there far, far bleow was a small shadow of a great bird tearing along the neatly marked-off fields. It gave me the most tremendious shock to realize for the first time the terrific speed we were going at and that that shadow meant us--us, like a mirror!
Copyright © 1971, 1972, by Annie Morrow Lindbergh
Work in Progess, Fifth Draft
[Working Title] Twenty-three More Days
Not that I'm counting, no --
I just happened to reailize that
In twenty-three days, he's gone --
Retired, quit, out the door, good-bye.
It can't come too soon for either of us,
Albeit for different reasons.
He's not been a good boss,
Really. What he says is
Not always what he means,
Or what he's thinking.
He kind of tells you
What you want to hear
At the moment. Then hits you
With the the truth
When you least expect it.
Sadly, I don't think he's ever liked
His job. He's bored, for one, and full of
Resentment--too many people
Promoted over his head.
The thirty-odd years he's
Worked here hang heavy on him,
And he's ready to be gone.
While it's hard to feel sympathy
For one who's given me
So many bad moments,
Still I try. It must be hard
To work at a job you
Really don't like, and
Not truly understand why
You don't get the promotion,
The accolades, the satisfaction
I've contemplated removing myself
From the situation,
But what has kept me from it?
Laziness? It's hard to job-hunt.
Perserverance? Perhaps. Or
Perhaps I was not as bothered
By his negativity as I thought
I was. I may need a therapist
To figure that one out. But
I have remained, and will remain.
For in twenty-three days he is
An empty parking spot, a
Cleaned-out filing cabinet, a
Now-quiet corner of the office.
And I can fly.
Copyright © 2002 Cathy A. Dee, all rights reserved, no matter how bad it is. It may be getting there!