What a day!

Yes, it is Snail (Laundry) Day; and yes, there are piles of it reaching Himalayan proportions. Oh, and a ton of birthday-party-induced cleaning to be done.
And yet, this morning finds me one Most Happy Whitterer! “Why?” you ask. “You are not what anyone would call Homemaker of the Year; surely the very volume of domestic tasks facing you would cause you angst and chagrin?” (Okay, maybe you do not know enough about me to say those things but if you did you would, so I’ll just say them for you.) “What, pray tell, has you in such high spirits?”
Two things. One is that my children are far away, in Brooklyn, because my favorite mom-of-kids’-friends A took them home with her yesterday for sleepover purposes. So the cleaning and the mountains can be done with alacrity and in my own way and time; and then … and then … there is time for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! For quiet time and feather dusting and luxuriating in solitude! Woooohoooo!
Also, a certain cat I haven’t yet met but who lives in the garden of a home I love had four kittens last night! Mum and kids are all doing fine; from the pictorial evidence, Mum looks just a tad dazed, but she’s tending to the small furry things that arrived as she is hardwired to do. The small furry things are scrambling happily and blindly over each other to nurse, as they are hardwired to do. So all is quite well in that department/cardboard box.
Here are two whitters from yesterday. They are pre- and post-meeting. I was looking forward to writing last night but couldn’t keep my eyes open to do so. What is odd is that my sleep was very very light last night; my mind was occupied in small sorts of thinking, barely perceptible and yet just keeping me out of the absolute velvet oblivion generally obtained at some point during the sleeping process. Oh well … I am alone!!!! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!! Ahem.

Absolution

Offer me a home
not of brick and mortar
not of stone or wood and plaster

Have you a wooded glade
near a quiet lake
moderate in size and temperament
more and more I am pulled
toward simplicity beyond any
I have known

I want to befriend the lark
learn the patterns of the hawk’s flight
to tell time by the sun in the sky
converse with constellations
find where I can build no expectations
just a small and careful fire

Crickets and the pen on some page
because the glide of it feels so fine
the company I’d keep
my soul and the forest

A smile, courtesy of Guy*

Carving this slice of opportunity
on a bus
with one of my anthems ringing
privately in my ears
and I smile as I wonder
shall I keep the double A batteries
sealed from water with my supply
of ruled and unruly notebooks
when I am a hermit in the woods

Experience engages my attention
lures me into the byways
where my life leads
because the boulevard
so enticingly easy and evenly paved
isn’t for the likes of me
a cobblestone kicker
side street stepper
richer for the roughness

*Guy is a wonderful staple of my Saturday morning AA meeting; last to share yesterday, he said as he so often does:
“I always try to remember the real 13th step: Thou shall not take thyself too seriously … Get the hell off of self!”