Unlikely but lovely to catch a swift flying hummingbird pausing for a drink of lilac juice.
Lilacs are blooming, wind is blowing, I am sneezing, and the swallowtails are back!
After the words–hard and biting,
after the actions–strange and estranging,
after the confusion, the redefining and the pruning,
there is life again.
Pathways of the mind, wandering thoughts, detoured by suffering as much as certainty, and
attention to intention wanes with the onslaught of feelings—
almost certainly erring, at least in part—and
the thoroughfare of mind-numbing thinking races unobserved behind this placid face and these guarded eyes.
And I would be lying if I told you it was all an exercise in mental agility.
And I would be lying if I said I didn’t care how things turned out or whether or not I solved my own difficulties, as well as the world’s.
And I could be trying to muffle the noise of all these crisscrossing thoughts and intertwined emotions, but this racetrack keeps running, lap after lap,
always seeming to drive nowhere—
nothing resolved, no destination,
but the whirring never stops.