Seasoning

Cyclical turning of the earth, passing of the seasons only to return again, having my butternut squash at Thanksgiving dinner, luscious lilacs in the spring, jumping in the ocean waves of summer, hibernating through the winter, liking the stillness. Don’t Rush Me! There’s where the feeling comes out, born late, arrive late, running for the bus but haven’t missed a plane, padding the time to allow for my dawdling. Rather get that chore done than be on time, priorities out of whack or warped? Grumbling at the drivers in my way, making me late but not enough padding allowed for my meandering. Don’t Rush Me! Hitting snooze at least once every morning - a slow waking up process, some time constraints but built into usual dawdling. Time to read my meditations, do my writing with cat curled on my belly, later capture her for medicine, the time for her brushing relegated to Mark when we need to leave another trip. Time to pack the night before then figure what I forgot this time.

Time to celebrate another birthday, another anniversary, making a big deal, my time or our time for these occasions. Watching the Grammy Awards, counting down the time till a long-awaited concert then lost in time for an hour or two, enthralled, involved, later wanting to recapture the time from the photos and videos, zoom in, hold still so it’s not blurry, hating when it’s time to go, hoping the next time not so far away, like visiting family then having plans to see them again at a certain time. Where’s the rhyme? Is there still need for the tumbleweed? After I wash the squash, I peel and pull out the seeds, a lot of work indeed, but boil and mash mixed with butter and pepper.


Written in 5/23/12 Wednesday Afternoon Writing Circle - read at Art & Soul Poetry Night on 7/13/12 http://www.writingcircle.org/