Another day
Jet engines revved and echoed over the lazy Sunday town. Ivy sipped at another cup of coffee hoping for some quiet time.
The sound of broom bristles striking pavement held and spread noise as her neighbor coughed and swept the driveway sending up dirt and dust to swirl around him while he coughed and sputtered his way through the clouds of dirt. He was intent on having clean pavement for the girls, his girls, to scream through the sprinkler, wet sunny bodies jumping and hopping through the grass onto clean pavement.
Another deafening jet engine broke Ivy’s vision of little brown bodied, screaming girls and the sound of the broom faded away. There is a little panabode snuggly house across the street complete with a wishing well and wishing still for quietness, Ivy jotted down stray thoughts. Another summer years ago, sitting on a grassy hillside picking buttercups and holding the bright yellow up to a cheek creating yellow, sunny yellow shine illuminating the cheek. The magic reflections of buttercups and light filled her with wonder and hope. And she remembered picking clover to taste the sweetness of purple held there in the clover by some other magic.
Remembering all the interaction with flowers – clover for good luck and good fortune (no fortune cookies required here) Pick a plant with four leaves and hold on tight to your dreams. Dandelion’s orbs of seed floating in the air wafting gently up and down on small warm summer air and her small hands stretch out and catch, oh so carefully the seed pod. Another bit of magic – make a wish, wish on the first star or wish on the dandelion seed, both powerful enough to manifest a desire.
And what would be the wish, the desire, of a little girl sitting on a grassy hill? She could wish for a little friend to come along to make mud pies and brown dandelion tea. A friend to explore the space under the porch where little baby kittens swarm together with their eyes still closed to the world. A friend to share in the secret of little cat clones – the miracle of reproduction. Wanting to softly touch the warm fur bodies but that is forbidden. Looking with longing at the mama cat always ready with warmth, warm milk and cat tongue caresses.
Jet engines revved and echoed over the lazy Sunday town. Ivy sipped at another cup of coffee hoping for some quiet time.
The sound of broom bristles striking pavement held and spread noise as her neighbor coughed and swept the driveway sending up dirt and dust to swirl around him while he coughed and sputtered his way through the clouds of dirt. He was intent on having clean pavement for the girls, his girls, to scream through the sprinkler, wet sunny bodies jumping and hopping through the grass onto clean pavement.
Another deafening jet engine broke Ivy’s vision of little brown bodied, screaming girls and the sound of the broom faded away. There is a little panabode snuggly house across the street complete with a wishing well and wishing still for quietness, Ivy jotted down stray thoughts. Another summer years ago, sitting on a grassy hillside picking buttercups and holding the bright yellow up to a cheek creating yellow, sunny yellow shine illuminating the cheek. The magic reflections of buttercups and light filled her with wonder and hope. And she remembered picking clover to taste the sweetness of purple held there in the clover by some other magic.
Remembering all the interaction with flowers – clover for good luck and good fortune (no fortune cookies required here) Pick a plant with four leaves and hold on tight to your dreams. Dandelion’s orbs of seed floating in the air wafting gently up and down on small warm summer air and her small hands stretch out and catch, oh so carefully the seed pod. Another bit of magic – make a wish, wish on the first star or wish on the dandelion seed, both powerful enough to manifest a desire.
And what would be the wish, the desire, of a little girl sitting on a grassy hill? She could wish for a little friend to come along to make mud pies and brown dandelion tea. A friend to explore the space under the porch where little baby kittens swarm together with their eyes still closed to the world. A friend to share in the secret of little cat clones – the miracle of reproduction. Wanting to softly touch the warm fur bodies but that is forbidden. Looking with longing at the mama cat always ready with warmth, warm milk and cat tongue caresses.
posted by Nora Tylor at 2:36 PM
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