Today was sunshine and dandelions, and drawing things that looked like neither. Spring pries winter's fingers from its strangle-hold; flowers and souls blossom to life; starlings nest in the roof slats; grass grows; dogwoods, cherry-blossoms, and plums delight in fragrance and alight with startling colors; and shorts, sun-skirts, light jackets, and the outdoors replace time spent huddling inside under mountains of blankets. It's remembering-the-world season.
I've missed it, the world.
The world rocks, Ahuva, shudders and burns, quaking beneath the thumping knees of the heavens. Aviva sprawls, she shakes her slippered feet, pops neatly from her cocoon, but your wings are not ready, dear, and the sun cries anxiously.
Ahuva, dance the puddles down the city streets hurry, beloved, time is not, nor will ever be...
lasting, everlasting, as we seem, so smell the flowers and the trees while racing along every city street, fly while holding hands
and breath, remember everything. for nigh the time arrives to say goodbye, Ahuva, don't wait for me, you're everything when you believe - and I'll surrender everything to see
how far you'll fly
jumbled-diction-stuff-day
Some days, like each of these, I've a magnificent golden mane, and others I'm all seeds, tattered and translucent, fragile as the breeze. I'll travel, but there will be pieces of me dispatched most violently to God-knows-where. Golden-mane-me makes a fine tea, but with these white plumes, people pluck me violently with questions thrown into the wind. Life is not all sunshine and daisies, I exclaim to the tiny white flowers surrounding me, and they natter on irreverently. The tulips understand, praying with delicacy - they understand timing and set the stage most elegantly.
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