Thursday April 18th 2013
Of late I have been Fruit Cake and Mistletoe.
Frilly in my dress, prancing around, and I put the square blame upon the
seasonal change, which tardy though it might have been this year still
brings out a bloom of good humor in me. In a sense I should offer
gratitude to the fates for landing me upon this particular compass
point, which for six months of the year is basically leafless and frost
plagued, because otherwise frilliness and prancing could become
ordinary. But probably more important to the security of the flame
of my revolt is an outside intemperance that regularly occurs, a result
of which can be a straight line wind, or some sort of spiraling vortex
offering opportunity to enter some other dimension, or nine inches of
rain in an afternoon, or a wind so dry it blanches the Laurel.
I guess it was the Tree
Swallow's arrival that put a gooiness where my spine should have been.
Sent me slack jawed toward a look at me and how happy I am. Saw me
skittering with tiptoe and without socks between my feet and my shoes. A
cordial of romantic impulse between myself and this earth. Kind of like a
fifties musical with tap dancing it must have sounded and I'd heartily
apologize if it wasn't for the sense of possibility contained within the
nonsense from what must amount to at least several days by now. But
fear ye not this valley of the shadow of bliss because I have watched the
television news and I have seen the weather forecast.