The butterflies were flying around the flowers and blooming blackberry bushes. Fluttering about in scenes of frenzy before they landed on one of them; wings upright and still.
With their bright colors in the noon day sun, they enjoy their nectar for lunch. Then, they flutter away; wings never stopping, across the grass and flirting with the branches of the trees. But, they never go to the top of them, with no such dreams.
nature is alive
productive and on purpose
enjoy who you are
regardless of all my perfections and ignorance, I still seek redemption, in my Sacred nature.
As i sit in anxious state waiting for Godot— hoping he never shows. Like a sparkle in a glass, asking me if i care to go? i will deny the invitation— i will stay and enjoy the sparkle— as all sparkles go.
As i move in trepidation. Waiting for the fulfillment of my day, afraid of my responsibility when it is appears. So i deny its invitation— i will take this breath and walk behind it. Watching it fade, from rise, to descent, and feeling fear disappear.
The Bended Black Steel Arbor And The Morning Glory’s Vows [The Legend Of The Black Knight, from the Pine Cone Diaries]
“Oh, bended steel arbor, planted firmly in the ground… father of the black knight. You have stood staunch through frost and snow until, in soft ground, I am able to rise upon you —and grow. With spring rain into summer sunshine you courted me becoming my first and only love; supporting me to stretch, to trust my wanderings, betting on me to win, lose, or draw.
I will crawl up your season’s steel arbor. I will rise above your bended arch. I will cover you with the cloak of my groping summer hearts.
With vines entwined, we will drink the sun— and hide to spoon beneath the moon; until I rise, unable to stand, so drunk from this climb, you will let me gently fall; bending to blossom our true desires. They will be bright sky blue, reflecting the sea; with a sprinkling darkness of the sky before the rain. And, every morning from their center’s light, they will release —the captured vanilla moon.
They will stand staunch with the colors you expect in a parade. They will be a delightful explosion of blue and vanilla moon surprises. One maybe two— maybe some— sometimes maybe none, depending on the bees and the hummingbirds and how we are groomed. I will promise the birth of our black knight, in our season’s last bloom; expelling the sun for our love to take flight, fleeing from winter’s moon”.
Bended black steel arbor planted firmly in the ground, pleasantly listening to a dream, streaming by, of an upcoming meeting and the exchange; now, of his vows. He begins to rehearse again, as he has in all three seasons. When suddenly— she peers from the earth— arrives with blinking, sun sparkled green eyes.
Well! Without hesitation, the bended black steel arbor, planted firmly in the ground, breaks out in his sincere well-rehearsed vows.
“Oh, love of love in my gloom and despair,
My patience is resilient as thou art fair.
Cast my season’s dis-pleasures in late summer air.