“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” ~E.E. Cummings
The moon hangs in the night sky and a star right below it. After some relief from the heat, it’s back again, but not really with a vengeance, just with spite.
The bachelor buttons seedlings that Sweet Farm gave to me weren’t the sought after blue flowers at all, just some sad gangly plant with white blossoms that look like stars. I’m keeping them alive with the dog water just to see what they will do.
Every morning, just as the sun comes up, I put out fresh water and raw almonds for Silent Bob or Jay, who are the Scrub Jays that have come to rely on me for their special stash. I caught a glimpse of one of them drinking out of my fountain, something I rarely see. I had to stand silently behind the pinball machine as he took 1, 2, 3 sips… and the Bushtits are back again, flitting around the crepe myrtle.
The moon stands in the sky, really, and the lonely star is tethered to it. Like an eye chart tomorrow it will move, leaving me to wonder if it’s the same star.
I might leave the blinds open to find out what hallucinations visit me again tonight. Last night a watery reflection of a vinyl record played on my ceiling, and cartoons danced on the blinds. Cartoon A fed Cartoon B with a spoon, and I stood in dumbfounded sleep paralysis, terrified and fascinated at the same time, and unable to move.
The hum of the fan is soothing and I close my eyes, not wanting to prepare for another day. I long for lazy days though I’m not wired for that. I’m dancing and it’s never fast enough. Though I think I’m the light that never goes out, one day the wind will blow the other way, and prove me wrong.