Poetry

Worthy of Mention: episode 2

A small notebook is opened to another page, full of blue ink, the page opened slightly elevated above the rest.

June has come to an end. What an obvious statement, I know. Yet, in-between the spring revelry and August drudge, standing still at the end of summer’s Dawn is refreshing. Being present in the moment is a battle for my mind. Even as I write these words, in dusky late-sunset light; I do not want to be here. An alarm sounds for my batch of tea – a cat walks over my pen, her poly-dectal feet pawing the page & ink as if they were her toys. She is the “main character”, and all the light touches is hers. Yonder, the frogs and crickets are attempting harmony; and here am I.

A small notebook is laid on a white background. This page is full of blue ink. At the top is scribbled the title, with two leaves doodled on either side. There are several typos but at the bottom right corner is an ellipsis ending in a little butterfly.

The first thing to notice is the sun. The light, hiding all winter, lingers longer and longer over the budding trees. Soon, their dark shells melt from petals to sprouts. These take up the branches, shrubs, even stumps, preparing their summer life. Then – with neither roar nor rumble – June awakes.

Nothing more lovely in the world than a June bride. Though personally, September seems the preferred month. Yet, June’s wims & mostly gentle skies are most idyllic for a wedding. I did not sit to write of weddings ~ so you can see how my rambles can lead.

The same notebook is opened to another page, still full of blue ink. Some letters are more heavily inked than others, indicating corrections made by the authoress.

In June, blue skies are indeed prized. However, her rains are also refreshing after a dry spring… or feared after a late-melting winter. She stands in the middle of the year, giving punctuation to two seasons.

This June provided such a moment. The rain had come quickly, though thunder had given notice near an hour ahead. I took an umbrella to check my little garden (aphid-torn kale & pristine snap-peas); when did I notice the rain? It was pelting my umbrella liberally. At some point, I walked to the end of our property, allowing the warm water to pelt my face. Then – I stopped by our little grove, lowered the umbrella, and listened.

Unlike the pages before and behind, this page is severed from the binding though its edges are not badly damaged. A very minimal sketch of a couple of tree trunks, some underbrush, grass, and leaves adorns the top. Still in blue ink. The corner is crisscrossed as so the reader can see the butterfly from the page before.

‘Neath a spiky-leaved oak, the sound of water pouring off leaves was symphonic. Brush ripe with green contributed to the music. Far away, the hum of a highway was literally drowned by the rain & a few feet full of trees. Nothing drew my voice to sing stronger than that unrelenting melody, & at the same time, nothing stilled my heart quicker than to hear creation sing.

The small notebook is opened to another page, about three-quarters full. There are little doodles of a couple daisy-likes and again a right-corner butterfly.

June is full of many things. Lives beginning, journey taking, plan-making, only to name a few.June is full of every-days,, just as she is full of wedding days. Each moment an opportunity. Because, just as May and April & all who came before ~ June leaves & does not return the same.

Thank you, Father of Light

For giving us the inward sight

to praise you with rain

even if the rain be tears

Author’s Note: Thank you for bearing with the typos. If you had not noticed, I am leaving them in the post intentionally. It is more encouragement to better my writing as much as possible. This is long overdue, as the fresh leaves I wrote of are saying a short goodbye- but here lies some early summer warmth.