Cupped hands. Inside them you might find a wood frog.
Sting-eeze and band-aids to lessen the itching of mosquito bites.
Pipevine swallowtails in the purple cone flower.
A small boy with a green net and sparkly blue bucket yelling "I got a minnow!"
Polliwogs and crayfish.
Waiting on the patio for the first firefly flash.
Crashing thunder at 5 am. Downpours.
* * *
I'm still reading my River Styx 76/77 and loving every word of it. Albert Goldbarth's "That Was the Year" is my favorite among many wonderful tributes to food and what it means: love, culture, memory, and trying to understand the world and its inhabitants.
My children are teaching me patience.
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2 comments:
my children are teaching me helplessness! ok maybe that's not entirely right. but i am sending my son on a plane with his grandma. and i don't love it.
and my sister is learning what it means to watch a daughter turn 13 and get her ears pierced. To lose her little girl. Ach, sometimes learning is so damn painful. I feel for you.
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