May I introduce you to a shower?

Vignette of Mabel

'May I introduce you to a shower?'


Summer rains fell out of the blue. She mewed
and introduced herself to showers.
No flower as rare had ever bloomed
in Dakotaland. Her petals wove sky
as blue as flax. Hair black and thick glistened
with the dew. How few the souls who truly
knew her heart. It didn’t matter.

‘She-who-laughs-a-lot’, Mabelline, Black Label,
sang the songs of fearful streets. The beat
of soles upon the pavement, the lines
that had no rhymes, no rhythms. No reason
to continue living; giving thanks
came hard to those whose lives were harder.

Yet beauty once had grown from prairie soils.
Turmoils of a day, a month, a lifetime
could not repress her inner strength. The length
of soul's-dark-night gave way to day. Today
all would be better.

                                       For her? No,
not just for her! The years had given
wisdom; her birth, a sense of humor.
Rumors were she'd leave someday. But not today.
There was work to do. Who knew this better
than her glowing heart?

                                       She remarked
that there were those who needed guidance,
perhaps a helping hand, at worse swift kicks
to rearrange their attitude. Not rude,
she took on what only she could handle.

On the streets, there were those who followed
inner beats, oblivious to water,
and allergic to clean linen. Well then.
She who had grown up among the flax
knew better. Got her plan in motion,
invited them to eat. In sweet
melodious voice, her laughter rang,
“May I introduce you to a shower?”

Those who know her, know the story.
One of many told by streets:
a Dakota girl, now grown a woman
walks to beauty’s beat. Her soul
now soars in sky as blue as flax,
above the golden heart of wheat.

© Kåre Enga

Written in 2004.
Catalogue number [161.554]

Fictionalized account of Mabel Snowbird's successful efforts to convince some of the guys to take a bath. She's awesome!

NOTE TO RATERS/REVIEWERS:

This is poetry. It is a vignette. A prose poem may have a bit of a narrative, but uses poetic devices: rhythm, rhyme, alliteration, image, etc. It is not a short story. It is not flash fiction. It needs to be rated as poetry first. If you feel it is prose, please comment. The line between the two is murky . Also comment whether you think it is best in this form or in letter, prose form. I would prefer prose form. Which do you?