From dance, she begins now to sing

From dance, she begins now to sing. 

It is beautiful. The sound is absolutely beautiful.

Everyone listens. 

The music is going well now.

Her dance comes from a river

Her dance comes from a river and a blue sky and craft sparkles
     and it is not ignorant to pain.

All is quiet.

There is a large audience and a stage and a spotlight on a brave woman and no sound.

The younger woman is wearing a white dress

The younger woman is wearing a white dress.
In a next scene, she is standing with no instruments.

She moves her body like a flower emerging from the ground and like a bird playing in thermals and like an octopus with waving ocean legs.
She flows.

In a dream, a younger woman is on a stage

In a dream, a younger woman is on a stage in front of a large audience.
She is trying to play music.
From a violin, squeak squeak. From a piano, clang clang.
People are expecting great things.
It is not going well.

Sun

Sun
set the sky into a
river set the seed into
flowing set the heart into red pumping
and the shiver

Eating squeaky cheese, she pondered

Eating squeaky cheese, she pondered what it was like the night the cow slept and made the milk for this.
Was the moon a soft sliver, the sky clear, and did the crickets sing?

When I tried to right the plant, it kept sinking

When I tried to right the plant, it kept sinking.
The seeds were too heavy for the branch.
Seeds from another time, or seeds for another time.
Maybe both.
The plant, it needed to rest.

When the seeds pulled the tomato plant down in September

The whole self was a current, a fragile cargo, 
a raft someone was paddling through the jungle,
and I was there, waving, ...  --Naomi Shihab Nye

When the seeds pulled the tomato plant down in September,
I tried to right the plant, to help it stand vertically again.
I then thought better of this so, gently, I lay the plant down.
"Would you like a blanket?" I asked. "The nights are getting cool."
The plant, "Thanks, but no."

In September, the tomato plant fell over

In September, the tomato plant fell over.
Seeds in the fruit, weighted, pulled it down.

The marigold closes its orange flower

Rest in natural great peace, this exhausted mind.  
     --Tibetan lama, Nyoshul Khen Rinpoche

The marigold closes its orange flower,
dries into something not pretty
except
it moves beyond pretty
look closely--look; see the new rich seed.

It was news.
It wasn't news.
He loved me.
He loved me not.

The news both was news and wasn't news

The news both was news and wasn't news.
It wasn't news.
It was news.

Today, she is thinking of the drive home, of an on-going wordlessness, and of the pansies, as well as more.

After the news

After the news, the woman bought yellow pansies.
She had to plant something.

The woody stem swallow gets pelted by seeds

The woody stem swallow gets pelted by seeds.
They drop on its head like a pulsing hail.
No matter.
A hydrangea flower attached to the woody stem acts as a bowl.
It is raining gold; the swallow pecks at the new found cache.

Under the feeder is an old hydrangea bush

Under the feeder are large blooms and woody stems from an old hydrangea bush.
There are only four perches on the feeder; three are filled.
The next bird opts for a woody stem below.
In their enthusiasm, the swallows who are eating above spill a lot of seed.
The woody stem swallow gets pelted.

The swallows gathered in the lilac tree

The swallows gathered in the lilac tree with its mildewy leaves.
They looked at the bird feeder, looked around, inched a little bit closer hop by hop.
Who will be the first to visit the feeder?
First one, then two, then three;
Now everyone wants to eat.

All the years

All the years and everything she had been fighting against broke through the thin veil.
She felt so tired it was hard to hold up her head.
Sometimes, when she moved, her body felt like it might black out.

She watched swallows.
First one came, then a fleet.

She sat in the sun with tea

She sat in the sun with tea and with grief and watched light and shadow move across the orange marigolds.

Unravelling

So the tired woman puts bird seed in the backyard feeder
Gives the white cat her evening treats
Brushes teeth
Goes to bed with books
(and grief)

To pursue the end of pain

To pursue the end of pain is the imperative of humanity. ~Alice Sebold

To pursue the end of pain
     like the end of a frayed rope
To one by one unravel the twisted threads