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The story:

One of the loveliest parts of spring is the way things small different from any other season. The trees, even if they don't have the pretty little flowers, still smell sweet with nectar. Leaves are daily growing bigger since the buds broke, a full month since I saw the same thing happen in Paris. The tulips are out and glowing with their exuberance. I spent part of the day walking along the river bank, picking up garbage, as a part of a community volunteer group. There were a few unwonderful smells, also associated with spring, mainly the sulphurous exhalations of anaerobic decomposition in a wet area. Anyone who has jumped into a wetland will know what I'm describing. Those who haven't, well, think of a sulphur laden smell, and that's about it. I disturbed some of that pulling plastic bags out of the mud along the riverbank.

But I also was able to interact with some wildlife, sort of. There were ducks and geese, of course, but also seagulls, red winged blackbirds, starlings, a cardinal singing somewhere, sparrows, probably a robin or two. For herps, there were three turtles sunning themselves on a rock in the middle of the river, and then on my way back there was a painted turtle sunning itself on a log closer to shore. A green frog was hiding in the cattail stubble when my friend was attempting to retrieve a baseball from the water. We also saw some tadpoles (likely leopard frogs), minnows, possibly a catfish. There were some squirrels, as far as mammals go.

So, I concede, the city is not bereft of wildlife. It's just impoverished. But I'm biased. Despite the issues brought up to me by many people about the benefits of living in the city (and I recognize them) I definitely want to live in the country at some point in the future.

But my food for thought today, I suppose, was that I am content at the moment, doing the things I am doing. And that's important.

Vegetarianism
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My LJ

Poetry Moments...

Lemongrass oil
Rainbow in the sun
Mosaic patterns
Breeze plays with steam
Palest yellow
Fragrant tea
May 2/07
J. Gibson

Giving Up

I am finished
I have finished
I give up
I'm done

J'ai fini
Je suis finie
J'abandonne
C'est termine'

It's up to you now
Because I'm so confused
I'll let you be
Que peux-je faire?

Mais non
Je ne pourrai rien faire
C'est 'a toi maintenant
Je ne peux rien faire encore

Mon coeur me fait mal
Mon cerveau s'est fache' contre moi
I am my own traitor again
I am my own torturer

All those things I attributed to you
All the sighs, looks and dreams
The images that came to me
They were only my fantasy

Apr'es toute
It was only me.

Feb 21/07
J. Gibson

Getting Through

Write poems
Sketch shapes
Think
Feel bad
Drink tea
Eat
Eat
Laugh with others
(pretend you don't feel it)
(pretend you can't hear him)
(pretend the last time he
walked by didn't hurt)
Smile
Look pretty
Look sad
Look pensive
Look away
(hide your eyes)
(hide your face)
(face in, face in)
(don't listen for his footsteps)
Laugh overly loud
Look at the dangerous one
Feel sullen
Don't look
(don't look, don't look)
Concentrate
Feel angry
Write poems
Be alone.

Feb-March '07
J. Gibson

The ouroborous, a snake biting its tail, is associated with life, death and rebirth, the constant cycle.

In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities.
~ Janos Arany

Courage is not the towering oak that sees storms come and go;
it is the fragile blossom that opens in the snow.
~ Alice Mackenzie Swaim

Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another
as to remain always cool and unruffled under all circumstances.
~ Thomas Jefferson

Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint
on it you can.
~ Danny Kaye

We are what we repeatedly do.
Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.
~ Aristotle

Last updated May 13th, 2007

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