Interim Day
What to do with yourself, while you are waiting for an
outcome that is inevitable, but hasn't yet happened?
I walk, in the last month of this coldest spring, down
the lanes: even in chill here come the fork tailed birds of summer; fat bees,
the first fruit on the wild strawberry. Such calm, such soothing words. I have
my phone which I type on so slowly. There is no one for miles. There is a voice
memo function. I speak the words about the fork tail birds, fat bees, first
fruits. My voice quavers, a little. The phone hears this:
On this last month o underslung last man
to disco disc brake hey come this tailored fit summer is that bees fresh fruit
wild strawberry
Poetic comedy, exactly what is needed.
I say, Universe, I need a miracle.
Later, my car is stamped safe for road use for another
year. I should have chosen my thoughts with greater precision.
Inevitable, but not yet happened. The white bells
shine in hedgerow groups, gathered, congregational, sepulchral.
Comments
I'm glad you have bees this year: we are seeing a noticeable drop in our bee population. And maybe because of that: none of my fruit trees are bearing this year. (Could also be the late chill.)