They…the ubiquitous ‘they’…say to
wake and sleep and go through the
day with my mind like a white screen
that life can be clearly projected on.
Is that even possible?
On waking, dream images continue
to drift in and out—last night, it was
the satin dress I was required to wear
in my role of counselor/realtor to a
woman with an aviary. It was filled
with what she insisted were doves,
though they were striped and dotted
in every extravagant color.
Then come thoughts of breakfast.
NO! NO!
Say blessings first! Give thanks!
I give thanks for the thought of
a soft-boiled egg, a creamy yellow
center, a dab of butter and strong
black coffee. But the dog comes
first. He does his yoga stretches
and wags happily as I reattach
his green collar that jingles. He
is one proud Chihuahua…a dog
of strong preferences and a sense
of protectiveness. Later at the park,
he growls, snaps at the Great Dane
who tries to befriend him.
And so it goes all day long: breathe in
and banish the movies of what to do
after the park: grocery shop, write the
holiday letter, pine to travel to
the sea. Notice long gray moss
hanging in the live oaks. Notice
the reflections in Shoal Creek
and the presence of fall colors
on the winter solstice. Breathe
in the golden light and note to
self: how lucky, how lovely to
breathe deeply when so many
around us struggle. How lovely
to see the giant tree invite me to
climb, recline on her long
stretching limbs.
And for a moment, that moment,
the screen is not a screen but
only blue sky
with a blue heron
soaring,
flapping away into her
indigo
future.
—Beverly Voss
