She was a plain jane. Faded yellow with raggedy little wings, windswept,sidewalk scuffed, Cinderellish. But Oh God, could she dance....swirly twirls in the air, and head first dip~dives straight from the sky, barely missing her nose on the upturn. And she's lived to be a 100 years old or more....in Storyland...The yellow butterfly of San Marino...
with her dirty little feet and freckled petticoat....
she's a gypsy.....
in her husky morning after voice,
she's a sunrise....
Counting days until we travel to her homeland again...
until she lands, teetering on wobbly show~girl legs, on the lip of my Michelob....
until she barrels in, Mardis Gras style, right before Santa Claus...
until she tickles my nose,
or my toes,
or my fancy...
And reminds me to laugh,
to live,
to dance at the very,very edge of the ocean...
I still believe in butterflies...
and peace
and love
and all that
hoo~hah....
10 comments:
I still believe too sisterlove... it's the best we've got on this roadtrip called life. Flying high and dipping low, spinning in place and fluttering in space, she takes us where we need to be.
you must know my wife. oh god, can she dance.
amen so does this flutterby sandy
skinny...Ready to fly by the coatails....Winged and free! Can't wait to meet you at the Sea....Counting down:) ILYSVVFM!
Benji....Clink! Ahhhhh, She'd be one of our new best friends...swirling and twirling away!
Ibeati...I know you do....you're a butterfly yourself!
This writing makes me think of your skinny little sister, who is so capturing my heart, slowly but surely . . .
A sunrise she is, indeed . . .
Peace, singles . . .
Oceans....
Ahhhh, and that my friend, would be the butterfly effect....
and it grows and grows and grows...
Peace~love and pixies
Just checking in here to "clink". Hope all is good in Hippie Land. Holding our own here. P&L
They're everywhere here my friend...
In tired pale eyes and swollen hands,
In feet numbed and aching because AIDS has infiltrated nerve and sinew...
And the other day,
while i was sitting in an uncommon garden at the edge of the world
a yellow butterfly
landed on my faded jeans
And sat awhile
with me.
When i got up to walk away,
she stayed and stayed
until she was ready to reclaim her place on the arms of the wind...
And I still believe
in spite of it all...
In spite of a 2 year old and 3 year old living alone in a hut....because their parents have died..
In spite of my amputee friend who took rope into the forest and tried to end the heartache because his mother was being beaten by his father... rocks thrown at her... told to sleep in the cold earth outside the hut...
I still believe,
Because on this broken road
there is peace and there is love
hiding beneath the jagged edges of stones...
Waiting to whisper
to fly with yellow wings
and land on our blistered
feet.
My deepest love,
Maithri
Spado....Clink! To "holding our own"....Wishing you peace, man, and love......
Maithri...
If I spoke a thousand languages, I couldn't weave them into one...
that would say in real words
what I want to say....
That would be big enough to tell you
the loudness of your whisper...
that would be heavy enough to carry the weight of everywhere you've been and seen and known...
And yet somehow...
in the lazy round river yesterday,
eyes closed,
floating face up....
escaping....
I saw not blackness,
but a fire engine red sunset...
and when I opened my eyes and rolled over into the cool, cool
water,
there on the surface,
almost translucent...
a dragonfly wing.....
And I knew then...
I had to remember to believe...
Much Love, sweet friend, to you and your world, our world, one world...
and every
wide~eyed soul,
every barefooted believer....
with wings.....
Post a Comment