Yet with all this force, this wheel
and whirl, how buoyant the water striders.
How the high meadows itch
with green. And the itinerant red-tail hawk —
how freely he cruises the halls of air.
How well the silver fish hold their own
in the current, heads to the source.
How easily the dragonfly nymphs sideslip
along the riffle, up to their ears in light.
~from Luci Shaw’s “Below”
Glad music and rain-wet roads. Never enough time, but I am learning to rest at 55 mph. The clouds parted above the last stretch of road, and there was the sliver moon, assorted stars, mist in my headlights.
A weekend wedding. I wore a purple dress and carried white roses. The sanctuary was full of light all round the two central, bright faces. To my delight, the bride’s youngest siblings adopted me. They are blue and white and golden, and charmed me thoroughly.
A blue and white and golden day today. Cool enough to drink hot tea out-of-doors; warm enough to sit there without being chilly. Out-of-doors, where one may read and read, but still catch smiles and feel like a participant in the day’s happenings.
We define tragedy in one course, read Tennessee Williams in another, and discuss the fact that real life does not have happy endings in a third. And yet.
And yet do we not assert that this thing we call “real life,” this now, is only what “we see in a mirror, dimly”? And are not the images in mirrors reversed? I make bold to assert then, that “face to face” shall certainly not wear a tragic aspect.
©2011 by Stacy Nott