By What is it like to be the bird on the flag pole?
The highest perch yet unsteady footing on the rain-covered metal.
Feels like life.
The crow and the mockingbird don’t seem to mind the rain. Discarded french fry in the parking lot a greater treasure than the bother of wet feathers.
Feels like life.
If a crow delivers a message from a mockingbird … is it truth?
That thought makes me laugh. A small-smiled, smirk of a laugh. My insides finding mirth in my process. The endless flow of wonder that occupies my mind more than reality.
Where did she go? The girl who loves to fall down rabbit-holes and drink possibility… she fell, forgot and became caught up in life.
It’s what we do when we forget our muchness.
Wait
Here I am.
Bringing my life into my dreams. Writing. Writing. My elixir of truth. Pages of wonder.
Feels like living.
Every day that it’s cloudy I say how much I love it. The rain, the cold… they deserve to be talked about. Is it the snuggling in blankets, warm sweater, heavy socks? Is it the hiding away which I truly love?
The chance to hide.
Here I seek.
Ready or not here I come.
I envy the sun on cloudy days, he doesn’t have to please anyone.
