And after, Dance

 Monday Morning Musings:

Winter passed away; and spring, led by the months, awakened life in all nature. The forest was dressed in green; the young calves frisked on the new-sprung grass; the wind-winged shadows of light clouds sped over the green cornfields; the hermit cuckoo repeated his monotonous all-hail to the season; the nightingale, bird of love and minion of the evening star, filled the woods with song; while Venus lingered in the warm sunset, and the young green of the trees lay in gentle relief along the clear horizon.”

–Mary Shelley, quoted in this essay on Brainpickings, 


Screen Shot 2020-05-18 at 9.19.10 AM


Be blue—and after, dance–

live for magic


though your heart is haunted

by voices sailing through time,


ghosts come and go

like a kiss,


like the scent of coffee

lingering in the kitchen–


those mornings, colored with joy

you remember?


An ocean breeze

leaving a taste of salt,


tears of joy and sorrow,

the sea knows


and so does the earth,

dazzling now with spring blooms


lush green canopies

filled with bird song.


A duck couple takes a walk

to see the wonder of it all.


There is death and despair all around,

but you see the sun rising over the horizon


reflected in the river, water,

the source of life,


Delaware River

and the air is perfumed now

with flowers and hope.


Rain Garden at West Deptford Public Library–A water lily in bloom


Nothing much happening here, so I visited the Oracle and she gave me a clear message right away. Get over yourself, I can hear her saying, though in my circle of blogger/poet friends, I’ve now heard of the death of five elderly mothers, including my own, in the past month. The young child of a family’s member’s colleague also died from Covid 19. I would say hold your loved ones tight, but for the most part, we can’t.

I caught up with friends and family by phone and Zoom. I had work and projects to finish this week, but I should have some movie recommendations next week. We finished Star Trek: Discovery’s two seasons–perfect pandemic escape viewing.