Whirlwind

I've missed this. I've missed waking up at 4 a.m. and starting my days with a good coffee and a long train of thought. The quiet world all to myself before it blazes awake. I feel I am barely keeping my head above water and the longer you keep from doing something the easier it is to keep from doing it. I listed my house for sale by owner 3 weeks ago. The next day I was contacted by my old work asking if I would help out with a project and if I could put in 40 hour weeks. The day after that someone contacted me with interest in the house. It sold in less than a week. Meanwhile I spent every spare moment working. And every other spare moment going back and forth to spend time with Matt. Last week was our 6 month anniversary--it seems we just met yet at the same time it feels like we've known each other forever. We have big dreams, and these dreams start with getting a house together. I'm talking urban farming. Chickens. Goats. Orchard. Grapevines. A tree house for the kids. We put in an offer on a house with 2 acres a while back and we are still unsure of the closing date. It was supposed to be last week, but the absentee sellers have not made it easy, have not done anything to facilitate the sell, have been impossible to get in touch with. Our own realtors said they have never had an experience like this before--it's been that frustrating. So we keep our heads down and forge ahead, waiting for something to happen. I keep telling Matt this--life changing things happen overnight. One of these days it will finally happen, it's just this interim of wait has us feeling detached from the quiet inside each day and also quite anxious. Come on already! If you have the notion, we'd sure appreciate some positive prayers/vibes/energy sent our way--that our future becomes a solid thing. And I can get my brain back to doing what it wants to do--writing.

It's the start of National Poetry Month

Because the weather can't make up its' mind and today marks the start of national poetry month, I'm including one of my favorite weather related poems from my time in Iowa City. Here goes...

Infestation

The week the ants came,

you learned what mercy meant—

woke to find them braiding a path

crossways in the bathtub from a hidden rift

near the faucet,

so many black dots, they assumed Monet,

each one a kind of living.

March was uncertain, windows drawn

open, then shut,

even the sparrows lost their minds--

ridding their nests too soon of wrappers,

bits of blue string.

A hundred ants that did so little,

and you without a heart

ruined enough to kill them. A hundred

too many to keep. You played roulette,

closed your eyes to the swift work

of killing. Washed the blood

from your hands. Said you were sorry.

Outside, the world pitied northern weather,

bushes collapsed in their thoughts,

and wind chimes forgave over and over.

Somewhere in town, a man you could love

eyed the bending column of a tree and wondered

how it belonged.

Casey Lord