The Merriment of Life
A soul needs tending today,
along with body
and spirit
all mine.
I bathed in good words and sunshine,
at sunset bathed again
in the pleasure of watching young deer run in circles
delighted with their wings.
Soil froze last night,
heaved and towered in shapes that soil doesn’t usually take.
It was crunchy like a Nestle’s and almost looked like a gum display.
You see, I had a fight with Dad in front of the cleaning lady.
She’s more like a gal.
And to soothe my confusion
I came to church to check my garden,
to ease my way, I picked up trash.
Toward the end of my round up
when I was looking closer and with more detail, I spied a plastic turret.
As it came out from the bushes in my pinchers
a beautiful ice sculpture slipped out.
My voice went into my lungs,
one of those wispy nondescript W words came out,
rather came in,
on the inhale
“Whaaa…?”
and
in a whoosh
sheer joy,
my treasure—my best kept treasure,
was set free as Souljoy in opera glasses for fairies.
I got on my anatomy posters
to examine the mathematical genius of the pattern inside.
It was made of rain water or melted snow
and I’m wondering how that affects anything.
The outcome of ice when it falls into plastic turrets,
and freezes by the chill of cold spring nights
was a breathtaking, breath-giving medallion of rooftops.
It tinkled when it slipped onto the rocks
and I sensed it was my special and particular gift
sent from my Soul
because it knew, we all knew,
I, as a collective,
would be restored by the delight.
What will linger in my pink light
is the vision of a medallion 4.54 billion years in the making,
fallen at my feet
while pulled out of an ugly gray plastic turret,
and clear and clean as you’d ever want it to be.
Glee did its trick.
I popped out alongside the medallion.
Popped out of the tangerine shock
to a terrain more generous than party hats.
Mother Nature must be glad to know me,
to scan for me when I send
my warning flower up the pixie stick,
knowing I will get her tricks
as she will get my plays.
Ahhh, the merriment of life!
Salt doth trade with sugar,
owl’s screech with morning sparrow’s song.
Ominous and requious!
to soothe to church to check to ease
to find a turret’s ice to gold
Poison aborts to nectar,
rubbish jests with alchemy’s crown
while spring kills winter
a frozen shame lies down.
Ominous and requious
in the merriment of life!
A father’s sword does not death
what Mother, in a cataclysmic flash of wonder,
doth mend and mesh
in the merriment of life!
Ahhh, the merriment of life!