My Annie's birthday is tomorrow, so the ritual will go like this today. She is now in Driggs doing some work to help the school system there.
It's a great job. It's fulfilling and satisfying. There are no supervisors to make things miserable. Working for ISU has been a true pleasure for her. I found it that way too.
Oh, and it's nice to see her so happy doing something like this.
I expect her home any minute, so I'm hurrying with the last minute details of this blog. I found a perfect card--funny but not crude, cynical but not pessimistic, interesting but not boring. I like the Far Side stuff. Our family finds this brand of birthday card hilariously funny. So here it is.
I've been working on her "this year's poem" for several weeks now. I put some things together, and then I let it sit for a bit. I felt inspired this morning.
I set my player downstairs. The volume is loud, but not disturbing to my neighbors. I figure Robert Plant is something great for a time, when I my hopes for spring are so intense.
Besides, the vibes are great too for my muse. So Annie, here's your online peek at your poem:
A Slice of Joy Is A Window Into A Soul
Bob Dylan sang Mona Lisa smiled
because
she had The Highway Blues. Looking at a woman’s face
is like looking into depths of the sea. You never know
what lurks there
what boils beneath rolling waves
what changes lie
beneath a surface reflecting blue skies and clouds.
Science believes
they know Da Vinci’s secret--facts about
the painter’s task. But they
will never understand
the look
the power Mona Lisa retains in her eyes.
I figure I married a woman like that, except I like mine
better than
Da Vinci’s woman hidden behind finger-smudged glass
in the Louvre.
Some days I look at her eyes and try to read omens in summer skies
but nothing conjures satisfaction for me
except the look she gives me
any given morning--eyes shining and teasing
a sparkle that tells me
what I need to know.
Why stand and wonder before life’s jigsaw puzzle?
If God wanted life and relationships to be simple
each woman would be
like a fortune cookie
a slip of paper stuck in her ear at ambiguous times.
But nothing appears as it seems
and innocence is an illusion that offers no solace on a winter night.
No infant I observed understood Bob’s blues
or understood
what The Highway Blues
might be: an asphalt python trail that leads
from East to West
from North to South.
Some might contend that a tiny child’s smile might imply
wisdom or understanding
but my wife always said
grinning babies had gas. I never found
happiness
in that bit of trivia, especially while cradling them in my arms.
Who knows why they really smile?
I owned a big yellow tomcat, and although I preferred dogs, I loved him
anyway. I trained him
and he begged. I trained him
and he would sit
on yellow haunches
before looking up at me. A smile
would spread on his feline face
and he would turn his large head from side to side.
I gripped prime roast beef in my hand. He
never gave up the idea
of charming his way through life. He would spring
to bat the beef with paws of recessed claws.
I hoped he did it out of love
out of respect
but those concepts never appeared on his face
as his eyes focused on roasted beef
yet he never scratched or bit me. His grins
infected every audience
who watched with a Cheshire mirror image.
The cat’s new-found love
was for a taste
of the same species of creature
that provided mammalian nectar in his bowl.
Who knows why he really smiled? Maybe he understood irony.
I married a woman with chocolate chip eyes
of mystery
yet she gazes my way
and I realize
that I wrapped my heart
around those orbs decades ago.
It was a time of youth, a time of new love, a time of yearning.
I still love her, even more deeply now as so long ago.
Her face lights up like new dawn in early spring. It tells me
what I need. Doubts fade away
mists disappear before rays of morning sun.
I embrace her eyes and wallow in their beauty.
I know my love. She will never live The Highway Blues
even if she likes to hear Bob Dylan sing it.
I bask
in the velvet softness I see on her face
and I yearn
to feel the static electricity of her touch.
I hear her image whisper to my muse. My love
I wear openly. I flaunt memories
of holding her in my arms. I sing songs of love
in my heart. A vision I see
in those chocolate brown eyes that bewitched me long ago.
They cast
their spell on me as a youth.
Their message remains constant. My love is my Polaris, my guide
because she remains at my side during my brightest day
and the darkest night.
I cherish
each moment and savor the taste of life
because
I know my love will always be at my side.
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