He had chocolate rain in his hat.
From where it came, he did not know.
It should have dribbled down his face
when once he put it on.
But it stayed inside
on top of his head
awaiting rains return.
She made chocolate footprints through the kitchen
from stomping in the rain out of doors.
It shouldn’t have been that way,
But in the end, chocolate rain
is much better than mud any day.
The chocolate bar was torn in two
so both could share.
Chocolate was late in arriving on the train.
They thought they missed their chance.
But it came.
She held the chocolate tightly in her fist.
It warmed and ran through cracks
that could not be sealed.
Some was lost.
She refused to release her grasp.
Leave your hat on the chair so it can be seen but not heard heard you coming through the grove when all was want and tired tired eyes closed against the light light rolling into the pond frightening the ducks ducks who have an auspicious way remaining afloat on waves waves holding you up so you can see past the shore up the hillside to where we stood stood still in moonlight waiting to dance wildly under the sun sun laughing at the genius of our tricks tricks raining down the hill chasing away while calling us back back to you and me standing in chocolate rain
A drone soared above open space
chasing the lady with her dog.
She didn’t see it.
He knew it was there.
A sounding swarm of bees chasing.
So she crossed the street to get away.
The street where teenagers
ran in front of them one night
to light a firecracker
She always held his leash tightly
so as not to lose him.
And she didn’t.
But she cursed them,
who laughed at their trick and her and her dog.
Neighbors turned on lights.
Shrugged their shoulders
to the cursing old woman and her dog
and two teens running away.
When she returned home, she cried.
What would have happened
if she held held the leash lightly.
But a leash was a noose for, oh, so very long,
keeping her in step.
Making sure she was following rules.
A leash is a harness keeping her from falling,
keeping her safe from mistakes.
The leash makes it all okay….
Loosening the leash,
dropping the leash,
gives freedom that comes with fear.
Discovery can be painful if you let it.
dropping the leash,
cutting it away,
the only way to be.
And the dog,
well, the dog was a good boy.
And he, too, made his own decisions.
He had always been happy to be who he was.
Now more happy that she was who she was
after dropping her leash.
Cutting it away.
Oh, she still walked him with a leash because,
well, because, there was still a bit of fear
in losing something she loved,
even though she knew, in the end,
she could not control that either.
Sun came home and left once more.
Moon sailed over them at night
and pillows tucked in their heads
with dreams and snores.
The two lived,
walked side by side
knowing the precious gift
each one gave to the other,
knew that it was this
that mattered most.
Memories will always be there,
if you want them.
So will those you love
because time is not a real thing.
Only some thing we imagined.
And when we walk on
to where we will next be,
we will find another leash,
or maybe not.
Choose to pick it up.
Or maybe not
and remember to just be,
see who we are
And maybe there will be firecrackers,
teens who like to play tricks,
hats filled with chocolate rain,
neighbors who shrug,
and lights that flicker.
But there will always be you.
For energy is neither created
It just changes form.
And how can one argue with that
in this glorious present moment
that is eternity.
And she chose the time of the sun rising to leave. Just as the star of night began its descent behind the trees, she turned and there sun’s arc claimed the horizon. It was time. Before her sat six bags. She would choose three to place into her basket.
She knew of her journey beforehand, although there was no decided beginning or end point. It was six cycles prior that she would gather and arrange the al that was gathered on squares of paper made from bark that she beat with a stone to soften the fibers. Under each new moon she would hold each item for that particular square and invite it to the journey. Then she would fold the ends over and around so none of the precious cargo would slip away before its time. Then she would tie with with with a cord woven from grass cut from the bank of the trickling stream. She continued this way each new moon until there were six packages. And it was time to depart.
Under the final new moon before Sun began its rise, she chose three of the six bundles and placed them Into her basked, leaving three behind for her return. If she did return.
She would follow the stream until it coursed into a river which led her to the sea and there would be two boats from which she would choose one.
She was no good at this. Her time was spent alone since her beginning. Her mother
passed as she was born. Her father she never knew. She lived as the women before her lived. Away from people in discovery of her ancestors.
And because of this, she was never really alone by the stream in the trees. She always found companionship, if she looked and waited, asked permission or invited, and listened.But here by the sea, where everything was new and asking to be discovered, she felt very alone. She knew it was for the best and she was determined to move ahead without too much worry or sadness for what she left behind as the women before her did.
She could always return if she wished. But what would be the point of that? The decision was made.
At the shore she look to the boats. The one on the left it would be. She was left handed as much as she could be, although many things called to her right. Today it would be the left.
She reached into her basket and removed one package. She gifted it to the man in the boat who would row her to the left sailing ship. It was then she realized she wouldn’t have enough packages to pay for her return. One for the rower. One for the captain. One for the new rower on the other end. And nothing left for the return.
That was how it was supposed to be. Nothing to fear. She would know what to do as truth would reveal itself.
She had never stepped onto a boat. It rocked more than she thought. Just as she felt herself leaning too far over the end, he reached out his hand and she grabbed it to steady herself.
A stranger to help. Imagine that.
She didn’t have to do this all alone.
His hand was large and chocolate brown with lines deeply modeled into his skin. Some would say wrinkles. She saw roads to many journeys and much experience.
He hand was firm and safe. All would be well.
How could you lose it?
I didn’t. It was there. And then, it wasn’t.
It was her lilypod. How will we ever find another?
We don’t need to find another.
What will we tell her?
Exactly what I just said. It was there. And then. It wasn’t.
She’s not going to believe you you know. She thinks you hate her and that you would do anything to anger her. And this will definitely anger her.
No it won’t.
It won’t make her mad.
Yes, it will.
No. It won’t.
How can you say that? It was her lilypod. She loves it more than chocolate rain. She is going to be furious.
It was there. And then, it wasn’t.
Her lilypod. Her precious lilypod that appeared one day when she was so very sad.
It made her happy.
Say it again. It appeared one day when she was sad.
It appeared one day when she was sad.
And it made her happy.
And that’s all that was needed.
And all on the full moon.