A warning flash, in the breaking light

 

The Midwest is under another heat advisory. In our area it runs until Thursday evening. In the past 24 hours we’ve had quite a bit of rain and some thunderstorms. Typical August stuff. Another typical thing are the Goldfinches come to dine on flowers. Last year they were stuffing their beaks on Zinnias. I didn’t grow any this year so they are ravaging the sunflowers. 

The male finch has landed on the window a few times today and peeked in, cheeky beauty that he is. With the hummingbirds that buzz psychotically by the flowers, the abundance of bees in so many sizes and the butterflies and dragonflies that come about (not to mention the blue jays, grackles and cardinals, sparrows and robins) it’s a regular air traffic control nightmare.

I rarely see the cicadas flying but they have their deafening and extraordinary song. When we pass them on the street some mornings they buzz and wriggle sounding like wind-up toys that are done with playtime. Evenings there are still a few fireflies out. Then there is the no less wonderous but less airborne amongst the garden community, the groundhogs, the squirrels, the rabbits and the occasional cat. With the heat I try to leave out water during the day especially for those wrapped in fur and low to the ground.

In the past few days, I’ve been watching the COVID numbers climb (infections, deaths) the whole scenario I watched last year, except now those dying are younger and, for the most part, unvaccinated. But dying, still, and turning hospitals back into trauma centers – for those dying and those trying to keep them alive. It is alarming (again) and painful (again) and avoidable (again). It is (again) distressing as I have people I know and love, who have loved ones (and those I love) in hospital(s) for non-covid, lifesaving endeavors. But they remain vulnerable to the selfish. To the petty. To the hypocrites.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I was rereading notes from a year ago. Feeling bad now for everyone who has tried to hard to stay safe, to keep others safe, to be a lifesaver. Carrying on. Ordering some new masks tired of basic black, though maybe the ones I have now would be good arm bands.

Stay safe, stay kind, vaccinate. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Tell those you care about how much you care.

A poem fragment from last year:

Everything is burning

Small fires are burning all over this morning,

the begonia back from winter hiatus

is aflame in the dawn; the geranium, dreaming

of sun, reaches for day, its tight bud an angry fist;

a ruby-throated hummingbird, sits

on a branch perfectly in shadow

until with a slight turn he is a beacon,

a warning flash, in the breaking light.

 

Beside the front door, wrapped around a fire bush,

                              a rat snake, gleaming like a jewel

                                                I call my husband and we watch it move from the shade

                                into the total darkness of the low pine.