Medley

How many foods do you see?

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Again.

Again, it says.

Too much. Again.

Did I do that? Or was it done?

I’m not practiced in talking about it. Sometimes, my body rebels. Or breaks down. Or screams. Sometimes, it flares into stinging and aches, walking oddly and thinking foggy.

So the seeds sit unsown. The plans lapse unknown. And I try and practice sharing that I’m human, and no, I won’t be eating that, running there, wearing those, or brimming with the patience and clarity we are both accustomed to.

Instead, here’s me.

That’s hard, for me, to be.

Coffees.

Yes, plural.

It’s odd. Interesting. Intriguing. Why can’t we, culturally, meet to chat and see, without coffee, booze, or tea?

Work is currently chats and catch ups and introductions. Fascinating. And caffeinating.

Hopefully fruitful.

Sunflower underleaf nests for this beneficial…or pest?

Amok.

Larkspur seeded next door seven years gone. Seeds saved six. Seeds sown five years ago. On their own hence.

I’ll hope to snag a few in a few weeks

To bring them back “home.”

Next door to where they first laid down

Before oft they went to roam.

Our mystery has bloomed. A mystery, to me, it remains.

This pollinator of the “tree” of perpetual chard (taller than me!) See?

Turn and look down the birds’ sunflower path.

The radish seeds bulge bigger than the broccoli.

And just as I crouched down to capture the half of society, this little flutterby appeared and perched so perfectly.

I think he remembered.

It’s been ages since he’s been. Five years, perhaps? Half his life.

He saw my grubby shoes go by the door.

Wag.

I put on sunscreen.

Dance.

I grabbed my keys.

Whine. Whine.

I picked up the leash.

Loaded in the car, he quieted. Tongue lolling. Bracing corners. Toppling.

Just before the driveway to the parking lot.

Whinewhinewhinewhine.

Pranceprance.

I know, buddy, me, too.

Any guesses on this volunteer?