Monday Morning Musings:

The Flow

“What was it like?” she asks me again. It was like being a leaf in a river. I fell in and was carried along.”
― Ann Patchett, Tom Lake

The leaf greens and browns. It falls,
windswept to sail on a river.

I am the leaf.
I am the river,
time-tossed, fate-flung,
carried, carrying
history in my blood,
stories in my soul.

Shall I tell you
my journey from stars to sea,
boney-spined, clawing the sand,
the dust of sparkling multitudes
flowing within,

glimpsed in eyes still—the twinkle, shine,
burning. The yearning.

My own story, more interesting than some,
less interesting than most, but I can leaf-spin

so that you follow
along the shore to taste the summer-peach sun,
to see a white-flower bride stand in reflection
against an azure sky,

to smell honeysuckle and roses on the breeze,

to hear the mockingbird’s virtuosic aria, and
a cloud-walking crow’s warning

of what could be– but might not. Death circles
like a vulture. The precipice
ever closer, the volcanoes that may erupt,
the deluge that may come—or the drought—

and war, and war, and war, and war. . . .and then
thousands of births, goslings, kittens, humans.

You may be unaware. So I will tell you, listen
for the robin choir before the sun dresses in scarlet,
sip ruby-dark wine, remember antiquity, live now,

the river calls, and I am part of it.
I let it carry me, a leaf, onward.

We’re headed for a heat wave. There is a heat advisory beginning tomorrow, but it was beautiful early this morning, and over the weekend. On Thursday, when we thought it might be too hot, we went to “Vino and Vibes” at William Heritage Winery. It is members’ month, so we had a free glass of wine and a complimentary cheese box, and then bought a bottle of wine while we sat in the shade of still-light early evening.

On Saturday, we picked up our farm market share and walked in the part in Collingswood. Sunday was Father’s Day. Our daughter and her husband took my husband out to a brewery. Our son-in-law graciously consenting to be the DD. Our older child will be visiting later in the month, and they will take my husband to a baseball game.

We watched the movie, Problemista, which we both enjoyed very much. I don’t know comedian Julio Torres’ work, but he wrote and directed it. It’s surreal and has magical realism and fantasy woven through it, but it also conveys the surreal plight of immigrants who must have money to pay lawyers (and to live) but have to find sponsors who don’t pay them. Tilda Swinton gets to do some over-the-top scene chewing.

I read Tom Lake by Ann Padgett. Mothers and daughters, family, theater, summer romance, cherries—what’s not to love here? As a mother on a cherry farm tells her grown daughters the story of her brief love affair with a famous actor, the action switches back and forth from their present (during the Covid lockdown) to the mother’s past the way it might in a conversation. I could imagine telling a story to my own grown children. This was a near-perfect book for me. I might have sighed as I finished it. My Michigan friends might really love this book, too—also anyone who loves Our Town, which I may have to see again or read.