May Flowers?

May Flowers?

By

Ophelia Mae Hancock

July 17, 2023


For those without enough sense to get out of the rain...

I sit upon my
My muffet
My tuffet
My toadstill
My lily pad

Contemplating the universe
What else is new?

I laze upon the porch of my old farm house
I laze my bones within the quite flexible confines of this weak coffin
The one that is woven of rope
The one that secures, yet also wields
The one that sways like a ship upon the seas

For a moment I fly…

Then, growling like a lion
Snapping like a dragon
Flashing like a star

You approach

I can smell your essence
Brimstones and blossoms

I peek from within my confines
I crawl from within my confines
I run from within my confines
I am free from within my confines

Refreshment!

We make it much harder than we need to
We make it much harder than it was ever meant to be
We run from our home

Return to the fold

Existential tap on my shoulder
Dewy and ethereal
That drizzles down me

We have begun

One more blessing after the other falls
Pennies from heaven

The silk curtain begins to forget about herself
She becomes lazy
She drifts
She allows me to peek

The Earth does not belong to us
We belong to the Earth

She lets me in on that little secret
She extends her hand

I surrender myself to
The Downfall
The Heavens’ Deluge
The Monumental Monsoon

I need my 40 days and 40 nights

As you wash over me
Flood over me
I sense this teeny tiny seed
Deep within my essence
It cries out
Oh yeah!
I remember!
And for a moment, I’m home