Babbling Mind...
The song, a beautiful instrumental I've been trying to learn since I'd first heard it, thanks to a fellow blogger's post, last week. I'm supposed to hum for 10 minutes a day to help my laryngeal reflux. Driving these roads provides time to think, I love my commute for this reason. An article I'd read that morning before work, "Were you born sad?" Yes, I answered. I think many of us are, despite being able to feel happiness...The field of epigenetics seems to back this up. Intergenerational sorrows. There is beauty in the center of Florida, not as stunning as the beaches, perhaps. Rust-colored cows in the fields next to an orange grove, white birds alight. Now, atop their bovine perch, they survey the swampy fields. It rained today, but the summer rainy season is gone, it's cooling off, drier. People are already arriving to spend the winter. This morning I saw an owl fly across the predawn sky, right over the traffic lights at the intersection. I wondered if it was confused, it's legs were dropped, as if it had planned to catch breakfast, but it clumsily composed itself and flew off into the dark trees. Audiobook and air conditioning, aah...Is it possible to love a narrator? I think so - when they, too, are in love with the words being read...I've brought an iced coffee so I don't get drowsy driving into the sun. Donkeys and mules in the cedar lined field are eating the vegetation at their feet, I see this pair all week, one light gray, one almost black. They too have their little white bird companions nearby.
Do most people know the other names they may have been called? My parents would have named me Caroline Leigh, or Leigh Caroline, not sure which, but my grandmother objected and wanted my mother to use family names, so... Dorothy Dolores, Dede. Maybe a more appropriate name, given my state of mind, lately...Remembrance...How might I have lived life, being called Remembrance Leigh, or Caroline?... Hard to call out into the dusk...to summon a kid home from kick-the-can, though.
Today -- you're in top form, Florida. Amazing clouds, but come on, it is absurd for me to stay one more year in Florida because of the occasional sky cloud masterpiece.....
You watch these transform when you can while driving, down here. The clouds disappear for a while as I pass developments, malls. What has happened to Godzilla looming over the sky Senate? Dissolved, some minutes and a few miles down the road, beneath the splash of a dolphin's tail...Florida is as much big sky country as Montana.
Arrived. Walking Sandy in the early evening. Still with the humming...New Amsterdam was her name, cannot get this song out of my mind. And this is no complaint. It is so gorgeous. I try to sing it just right, there aren't many lyrics. Only the dog can hear me repeating this verse again and again. .....Any 82-year-olds passing by in golf carts will be amused. That saxophone... what more could we ask for? It's a perfect piece of music. Which instruments do you love the most, I argue with myself... The cello. The piano. The guitar. The cigarette. We come and we go, like opinions.
Sandy loves this walk along the creek. Still humming. Which little girl in my 2nd-grade class is kissing the bathroom mirror? I suspect Lizette...She asked me to play love songs today, when she and two other students had their lunch with me in our classroom, the boys nixed that idea. Lizette spends a lot of time in the bathroom, I have to ask another girl to go knock on the door and check on her, a nudge to get back to class, sometimes. This is what many little children want...love songs explained. New Amsterdam was her name...I find something beautiful floating near the edge of the brook. Blue heron feather is cloud colored... Songs I loved in 2nd grade; I was cool with Black is Black, loved Daydream, adored Michelle and Norwegian Wood...but flinched when Winchester Cathedral came on the radio, it brought me down; how could that baby be so mean. I'd ask mom to change the channel...Just look at the hits from 1965-66, sometime. We will never achieve that again, I just can't see it. My current jam, New Amsterdam, was written in 1969.
Beauty is always waiting to coalesce around someone's eyes, ears, mouth, pen. Sandy and I get near the water's edge, pluck the feather, and watch the water plants undulate in the gentle current. Listen to Mourning doves. Breathe in the tea tree scented air.
Beautiful things I've given attention to, lately, Moondog's music, golden lampost's soft glow in the mossy trees, an old bottle with the remnants of sandalwood oil, eight-year-old asking for love songs at school, I babble along with the brook back home.
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| Estero, FL |
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