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Reading about the planet Mercury’s transit across the sun the other day

Had me thinking about all Mercury related things.

This transit only happens about 13 times a century,

So it is a fairly rare event.

There was a mythical Roman god named Mercury.

He was a messenger between humans and gods, supposedly.

There is also an element Mercury which is atomic number 80 and

Its symbol is Hg. It is a silvery liquid used in many weather instruments.

With Mercury on my mind, I was reminded of a necklace

I inherited from my mother-in-law. I wore it today.

It was made with a 1939 (S) Mercury dime. The background surrounding

Lady Liberty’s smooth silver face was artistically colored red.

She’s wearing a Phrygian cap which has come to symbolize freedom

And liberty. I think the wings also symbolize the Roman god Mercury,

And therefore the dime was given his name.

The more I read about all the different forms of Mercury, the more

I marvel at the many cultural and scientific connections.

And of course, I couldn’t ignore all the numbers.

 

 

Mid-morning a feeling that I was in the doldrums

Began to creep in. It was like I was living out on the plains

Of an anti-climactic life. I thought that Flat Stanley

Could be a real friend. I was in a math class

Where all the students were diligently working.

No one needed my assistance at that time.

Then I began to hear what sounded like a racket.

I was drawn to the windows in the classroom.

No one else seemed to notice the commotion.

I looked out and saw two bright red cardinals

Chasing round and round the one and only courtyard tree.

Whether they were playing or arguing was unclear to me.

This spike activity going on before my eyes woke

My heart and mind up to the wonders of our world.

 

The number twelve on the dial of my watch keeps calling me.

It signals noon- midday and it’s at the top.

This brought to mind the bookmark I found the other day.

There it was at my feet.  Gandalf from The Hobbit – An Unexpected

Journey- December 14, 2012. His journey took him to Middle-Earth

Where humans live. Then I remembered the beautiful picture I saw

The other day. There was a brown wooden fence running down the middle.

A clear distinction between right and left. I preferred the left where the daffodils grew.

Oh, the places my daydreams go! The idea of Middle-Earth made me open

My bedroom blind. I was stunned to see my red camellia exploding with blooms.

At that moment a young blue jay flies down within view. I think he was hiding

In the ivy tower. I really need to get outside!

 

Pig Latin is a way to talk in code.

A way to disguise your words.

Hidden from the clueless.

Groups like to invent their own language,

So they can secretly talk out in the open.

It’s like a glue that holds the group together.

It keeps the outsider excluded.

Sometimes it is filled with double meaning,

Often misunderstood.

The pig conjures up within me all sorts of feelings.

I’ve never forgotten my brother telling me:

“Don’t worry little piggy, you’ll grow up to be a hog one day.”

I was twelve and he was sixteen. I wasn’t fat or lazy.

In my mind, there was no comparison between a pig and I.

He meant no malice; he was a teenage boy.

My feelings about pigs have softened over time.

Long ago, I picked out a pig at Restoration Hardware.

It now holds a place of honor in my garden and in my heart.

Happiness is elusive for some. The pursuit can tire one out.

One day you might catch it. The next day it is gone.

It slipped away while you weren’t looking.

Some build a temple for it and bolt the doors.

The constant need for validation can wear it down.

Thin and fragile, it can dissipate.

Some say it is a choice. A decision to make it be.

No pursuit needed.

There is no universal definition of its specifics.

It’s just a general feeling.

Happiness has many enemies. Among them: Jealousy and Rage.

These are the most aggressive.

Faced with adversity, Happiness can shrink away.

It must stay tethered to a well-braided rope.

 

 

The beauty of snow adorned trees reaffirms Mother Nature’s exquisite taste.

Frozen water forms intricate patterns that elicit awe.

From a distance it covers all in non-discrimination, gender-less and fair.

This cold and frosty lace is a crowning glory. The old magnificent trees

Patiently wear Winter’s royal dress. They know the soft and flowery

Warmth of lovely Spring will renew their vigor soon.

Scanning the Twitter-verse,

Reading random tweets.

Not necessarily following my feed, but rather

Following a chain of people, a chain of thoughts.

One person leads to another, and this goes on until

The redundancy becomes absurd.

The degree of condescension seems high to extreme.

We humans have a need to put each other down.

Perhaps, it is a desire to place oneself above.

Many reach up by educating themselves, then assume

A patronizing stance. I’m up here, and you’re down there.

Sometimes in good fun, of course.

Not everyone falls into this trap, though it is all so easy to do.

A good laugh at someone else, mostly hidden behind their back,

Covered up in the guise of some other silly conversation.

All so smart, so superior, so cultured,  definitely not native.

The need to condescend might come from a more deep-seated concern,

Possibly a weakness at one’s core, an uncertainty of one’s own worth.

The posturing of one’s ego holds one up above the rest.

No one wants an ‘average’ designation, and I include myself in this.

All these poses, guises, and masks give off an unauthentic air,

Or a pompous cloud that breeds contempt.

It is no wonder that the belligerent buffoon rises.

 

 

The days and nights fold together when I stay warmly wrapped in fleece. No sharp delineations.

The gray landscape turns white as precipitation falls. The black pavement has ridges of white encroaching on the lanes of travel. The noisy plow comes through to crush the rising mounds.

Morpheus has been on my mind since yesterday when I looked up morphine. I saw his naked body pictured with Iris, his female companion. His skin looked as soft and smooth as hers. Both their bodies curved. His reclined while she stood aside.

Then my mind turned to morphemes, morphology, and butterflies. Form and function are always holding hands.

These days my thoughts move around with no direction until they come to rest. My voice is giving way to my listening ear. My daughter seems intent on interruption until I yield.

Darkness falls outside. Still I hear the crunching sound of blades intent on keeping clear an open path.

Today is a better day. I see three Mourning Doves

Perched quietly in a tree.

Their drab brown feathers are cloaking them as they huddle.

The bare branches bend and twist around them

In color harmony. Everything is stark.

The rounded shapes catch my eye. The branches are

Long and thin in contrast.

I thought I saw something ruffle and move ever so slightly.

I focus in to see what I have spotted.

It appears the rounded shapes are birds.

They sit in peace within the barren courtyard.

All the leaves have left.

 

 

 

Another day, another feeling, another poem.

Red Hot

A smoldering burn that won’t go away.

The smoke and heat and residue remain.

Stubbornly saturating the stagnant air.

Tears can’t remove the images and stain.

A feeling of anger is beginning to build.

I’ve been trying hard to knock it down,

Or at least hold it at bay. Senseless and tragic.

An unnamed fury I want to leave behind.

Perhaps, this anger could do me some good.

Not to strike back, but to push me forward.