Tuesday, June 19, 2012

i found a bee, sleeping in blushing pink


i wrote this April 16, 2004.  what remains of my 2 older blogs are coming down and i hope to save some of it all.....


i walked around in the yard and went down by the front garden. i think the neighbor's kids have been hanging off the gate again because it's angle of hang is somehow not right. anyway, everything looks ok so far.......back up the hill and around the house to the garden in back.....i think i've 11 kinds of pepper growing....i forget how many.......they look ok. the rabbits are ignoring the greens......a shot of baby powder everyother day or so seems to be doing the trick......back around to the front of the house where the pretty roses are (the one's in back are more briar than rose and they smell like black pepper). the one by the front porch is laden (always wanted to use that word) with huge cup and saucer pink blooms. of course, i had to smell of it. i bent to put my nose in the bloom and before my nose was a bee, sleeping. i looked at him awhile and thought he must be drunk on the scent of the rose........he was curled up and cute....a little bumblebee. i touched him.....soft and fuzzy. he made little grunting sounds and wiggled a little.....snuggling deeper into the corolla of petals....made me think of that line from the Kate Bush song "let me sleep..........let me dream.....and dream of sheep." of course by this time, i am certain i've cracked my egg.....wondering at the imagining of a bumblebee dreaming of sheep. carefully, i cupped the bloom between my hands and gently closed the petals back over him......almost tenderly. by now, it is certain my egg is cracked. it's a good thing up here on the hill no one's around because if this had been seen by human eyes, i would be on my way to a medicated vacation in a motel with foam-padded walls where i would wonder "where are my shoelaces....who would steal shoelaces?!?!?!?" these are surely signs and symptoms of a fevered imagination. fevered because i'm a sop-headed romantic who is ignoring his practical/pragmatic streak........i think i need to get a boyfriend. one who will let me delude myself into living the second of Adrienne Rich's "Twenty-One Love Poems." The one with the line "i dreamed you were a poem, I say, a poem i wanted to show someone...and i laugh and fall dreaming again of the desire to show you to everyone I love, to move openly together in the pull of gravity, which is not simple, which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air." oh god, i've got it bad.