Monday, August 10, 2009

I am crucified on my deck

I am crucified on my deck,
arms outstretched,
toes to the west,
watching the mothership of a grey cloud
pass overhead.

I want it to surrender,
to fall and blanket me.
I want the cool grey air
to descend as it would into a valley
Hiding me, protecting me.
A shroud of cloud.

But instead, it drifts
across the sky
in ever shifting patterns.
A loose shiftless layer of smoke
between the blue far above
and my little house below.

Instead I am left behind--
the cloud sailed by,
revealing the bright sun.
I shut my eyes
and the heat nailed me back
against the deck.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

I have a storm front headache

I have a storm front headache. It is only one of a sundry of nagging little ailments that are hanging around this summer.

My radio tells me that Virgil, New York is supposed to get hit. June, July and now August--just about all of upstate New York has been hit.

My body tells me my head hurts, my heel hurts and sometimes my hip hurts. My teacher vacation is fraught with these throbs and twinges.

Apparently, the rain and the nagging little pains never end. 90 days of wet, cloudy aches speckled with drops of sunlight. Such a conundrum: exercise through the pain or don’t exercise; embrace the cool temps, put on a sweatshirt and run outside; or when the sun is out, stop dead, strip and soak up the rays. Force the body to run and jump and kick and stretch; or rest the weary bones and muscles.

The Queen Anne’s Lace is waving to me. Welcoming the storm? Or signaling danger? Who are we kidding the Queen Anne’s Lace doesn’t care. It is a pliant and patient plant. Busy undulating as the temperatures decrease and my head ache increases.