09 April 2008


At Dino's in Yellow Springs. It's a lovely spring day out and hopefully the caffeine in this breve will boost my spirits all the more. A glorious breeze just came in from the outside. Every time a great gust covers me I am brought back to Turrialba, Costa Rica, on that rickety old beat up bus. Sitting next to my friend, Betty, who said when the wind blew, God was present. Of course I believed her. I thought so too...

We all stood atop that cypress hill and overlooked the city of San Jose. The cars beneath us resembled a swarm of fireflies and lighted the night sky like the fourth of July. Crooning one another to praise, we stood in a circle, like a family reunion on holiday. God came and whistled through our hair and whipped across our skin while slowly we made peace with the drunken drivers below.

In unison, we too drank our fill, and nestled deep into one another like a lifeboat saving us from hell. The melodies ceased and the air became crisp. Soon, the time would come to file on that old rickety bus. And next to Betty, we'd talk about God and his presence among the fireflies that night.

Coming down off that mountain, I saw the stars fall. Green, red, blue and silver too. They dropped from above with a whirling speed and looked like a farmer was planting his seed. And the moon overhead, a giant thumb clipping, told I'd find love, as the boy kept fishing. And I turned to Betty, who'd nodded to sleep, her hands were still clasped just sitting there wishing.

And back to the camp we made our way home. Into our bunk we settled forlorn. Sleeping it off, and rising next morn, we climbed the green mountain, and sounded the horn. The fog still was dancing, sunlight all around, into the forest and onto the ground. The lilies and ladies the creatures of night had roused from their sleeping to welcome our plight. And joining in song we echoed out loud, with joy and elation, forsaking our shroud.

The chalice passed round and the bread cleaved in two, his body was broken for me and for you. Dripping in goodness and glazed in his care, we tilted our heads and our chins to the air. And down from the mountain a glorious breeze, a gust of forgiveness and a wind of his ease. Settled upon us his powerful peace, we all felt his presence, his whispering plea.

And God was then near, his wind and his breath, had covered us over 'twoud hold us till death.


Birdie/That Girl said...


Birdie/That Girl said...

p.s. I've never met anyone who used words in the way you do...it's an art - a gift, but you already know that.

laura said...

so, i see your in education? i taught art for about 5 years. mainly middle and highschool students, but my very first year, i had the little guys (kindergartners)- not as little as preschool, but still just as precious. kids are surely a trip. thank you for your comments... and did you get my little blurb about where to find the risotto recipe? ..and i'll get that focaccia recipe to you soon!