Random, disjointed thoughts on an August night:
Sitting on the fire escape. The night breeze finally blowing in. I always feel like I’m sitting inside the tree that climbs our three stories with me. I pull a deep green leaf to hold in my hand. I stick it on my heart. I breath deep the cooling air.
Tonight, my friend who lives on a farm tells about her hen who is so fierce she scares the cats and the dogs. Tonight, the hen we dubbed Artemis, strutted into my friend’s den as she was writing - in all her iridescent glory - a fierce feathered muse.
The night’s firmament is mottled, gray, and smoky. Starless. The hazy, waxing moon is hanging in the south eastern sky like a luminous egg. Perhaps Artemis in all her mother fierceness threw it high up there to shine on me on my fire escape hidden in a tree. What will hatch from an egg moon, I wonder.
Thoughts as disjointed as the bones under the rocks of an archaeological site. Waiting to be reconnected. Or never.