September 15, 2010 § 14 Comments
with her erratic flight
exactly where she’s going.
Though her path is serpentine,
her focus is fine, exacting, miraculous, as
she skinnies down the tube of
the beaming morning glory.
What is it?
tracts these pollen pushers?
what drives the
need for nectar?
Watching them hover
hones one’s one-ness with the universe.
there’s the bee,
that ballsy little bumble who
buzzes his way into flower homes,
drinking, drinking, and
fuzzing about in the pollen ’til
he’s so darn heavy, so laden,
so drunk that his hover becomes
nearly a stutter ’til
he begins the flight homeward.
(photos taken in the patio garden)
Book recommend: PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK by Annie Dillard
This book was a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1975. My Gran gave it to me, in hardcover. I was in college. Though it appeared to be essays (on nature and writing and stuff), Dillard says it wasn’t, that it was a continuous piece.
I’m not gonna argue with an author like that.
I’m going to listen to lots of lines like this one – ok, yeah, her lines are simple at a glance, but that’s part of her writing intensity.
“The wood duck flew away.I caught only a glimpse of something like a bright torpedo that blasted the leaves where it flew. Back at the house, I ate a bowl of oatmeal; much later in the day came the long slant of light that means good walking. If the day is fine, any walk will do; it all looks good.”
Really, she takes the simple stuff and shows the natural side without getting ethereally out of hand.
Dont’ take my word for it. Give PILGRIM a try if you haven’t and transport yourself to Tinker Creek in Vriginia’s Blue Ridge.
But really, it could be anywhere.