Yay, past-Shannon. You’re like a fuzzy friendly monster eating daisies in the sunshine

Please check out the new additions to my wayswearelost blog.

And now, this silly thing:

Don’t you just love when you randomly find something that you forgot you created and it makes you think, oh wow! I don’t remember making that?

I’m not sleeping because I’m flying tomorrow and I never sleep before I fly. So instead I’m surfing old blog entries.

I found this one and it reminded me of a former-self that was less concerned with so many things, and more joyful. I could take lessons from her. She’s neato. Yay, past-Shannon. You’re like a fuzzy friendly monster eating daisies in the sunshine, occasionally dipping in and out of rock-shade for a drink of water and laughing a lot at your thoughts.

Anyway, here’s what I found and rather liked.

Knots have been away, resting their bodies against a sea rock, I suppose, perhaps in Maine. I don’t blame them. Wander the lights, I think, lean against the glass, eyes pressed to an ocean dress.

One of them wanted to come back to me tonight. The herd stamped that idea out of its mind immediately.

It’s not time! knot 34252 said, untangling seaweed into the shape of a helix.

But the one who wanted to come back looked for Jupiter in the sky, drew an equation in the sand for the distance between.

Between listening, the carpet has names for my breath. Another language that perhaps the knots could translate.

Something beams inside me, whispers,

don’t you know, in the listening one composes things, hangs lines of beauty in the air,

As grass keeps growing, though the roots know nothing of it.

***

Pressed, I think I see knots,

in Maine, or where my thoughts

and You, settle.

Listen,

when the knots come back, beauty

will reveal She’s been sitting in my corridor,

all along, handing me things like: Your intentions,

the sun caught in a toads throat, forgiveness

open cotton-field-wide under

my feet and You. I will tuck under my bed

the sandpiper who stands one-sided, drunk

from whatever it was my words bloomed in the other life.

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