Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
Got together for home made pizza tonight with a former co-worker and his wife. We were catching up on each other’s lives, sipping on hard apple cider, munching on chips and sweet mango salsa as our conversation went from one subject to another.
I’ve been looking forward to tonight ever since we wrote it down on our calendar six weeks ago.
At one point, I mentioned picking wild black raspberries behind the barn, and spotting a small white moth trapped in a spider web. It had caught my eye because it was still thrashing around. I told Chris that on a lark, I decided to intervene and free the moth with a small stick. Next thing I knew, the moth got away, and flew onto my shirt, as if to say, “Oh thank you!” before taking off.
I mentioned I had posted that silly little story on Facebook, the day it happened and was surprised at the number or people who “liked” or commented on the incident.
Chris then told us about a cricket he’d rescued recently at work on the shop floor. Instead of killing it, he scooped it up, walked over to the door and let him go. He said the two guys he was working with both looked at him like he was nuts.
There is a whole undercurrent of life happening all around us, all the time.
Yesterday as I was looking out the window to our front porch, I noticed the bird bath water was empty. We’d been gone for three days to a family reunion, and the heat index in our area was over 100 degrees. I noticed a little sparrow standing on our porch floor with his wings slightly spread, his beak open, panting.
I happened to be on the phone with our daughter Rebekah, whom we only get to see a few times a year, so I didn’t want to stop mid conversation and fill up the bird bath, but at the same time, having just finished working outside myself in the killer heat, my heart went out to the little sparrow. I figured, he was not the only bird on our property who was in need of water….so just as soon as I hung up with Rebekah, I went outside, and filled the bird bath.
I am not a tree hugger.
I love my steak cooked rare, thank you very much.
I do not believe animals are on the same plane as we humans…
I do not believe in reincarnation. (ie. you and I may come back as a bug, animal etc. depending on how we behaved this time around. )
But I do believe life is precious.
After we ate tonight Chris brought out a book of poetry by Shel Silverstein. I asked him if he wouldn’t mind reading a few of his poems, since I was not familiar with him as a writer. One of the poems he read was called Forgotten Language. Seemed to segue into the conversation around the dinner table…
Well, it has been as lovely evening, think I will call it a wrap. DM