From Flower to Flower

The bee flies unconcerned from flower to flower in the gray morning air, with the coming of a huge storm making its way closer to our river valley. The thick limbs and needles of the evergreen hide the movement of the blue jay, yet his loud chirping can be heard throughout the neighborhood.

My outdoor wedding has been postponed because of Hurricane Irene, but we will only make it better inside. I got married during hurricane Irene, what did you do? And today's coffee was not strong enough to defend itself.

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I need that new dimension. That icing. That sweetest layer of living. Rain tapping on the north window and the drops, those individuals that join to make up a large storm, march downward to create another torrent. An unexpected stream. Ah, such is life. The birds and bees seem to sleep in this gray rainy morning. This round rotating movement, this constant fan of wind with fancy-schmancy room divider trees that brush the house on occasion. This fat storm from the south is hitting with a revolving arm that comes at us from the north, cyclone swirl. Everything happens for a reason.

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So glad things are back to normal, whatever that may mean. Anyway, I came driving along the northbound side of the road high with untrimmed overgrown weeds. Around a blind curve I came quickly upon Dancehall Dick, sort of in a daze. walking with his back to the traffic, unconcerned with anything, in a world of his own.