Bearable Lightness

The other day I saw a thing that pleased me. Lit by the sun's afternoon rays, four tiny insects with shining wings flew in a column inches above a bush. They rose and fell in elaborate dance, circling one another, one bobbing up as another dropped, then reversing, all in a space of a few inches. I suspected that it was some sort of mating ceremony. Though I knew they were kept aloft by a furious beating of wings, they gave the impression of utter weightlessness, and the sight of them filled me with an inexplicable joy. I watched for several minutes, until, one by one, they settled out of sight into the bush, the last of them making a few final bounces alone before following the others. The sight stirred something in my memory, but not sufficiently to bring it fully to consciousness. It bobbed below the surface each time the vision of those insects returned to my mind. Several times tonight, as the soft rain sought the earth and soothed my ears with a faint trickling in the gutters, the thought of those insects returned to me. At last, that hidden memory surfaced. I know the thing of which they reminded me, and it is todays . . .
( Sunday Verse )

False Moment

A bright spot appeared to mark the location of the sun, making the gray world glow, setting off a flourish of bird songs. A jay landed on a twig, causing its burden of pendant raindrops to tremble. This brightening lasted only a moment. The rolling clouds thickened between earth and sun, and the gray was restored, the birds ceased to sing, the drops of water lost their sheen. Now the scent of wood smoke creeps through the cracks around the doors and windows and fills the house with the smell of winter. This rain is expected to continue for at least three more days. I'm beginning to dream of deserts and the dark shadows of buttes marking day's passage across a bright landscape. Tonight, I will listen to the warmest music I can find.