The Turning of Things
I often lost myself in Garland's voice,
a young girl believing beyond the rainbow was possible;
eyes closed, hammock rocking gently,
cat curled into my side, sang along prayerfully, quietly,
low notes almost a vibrato.
I'd hear bees bumbling about mother's perennials
attracted to the fantasia of color amidst arcs, bows, curves
of buds and blossoms;
my favorite the iris, or "eiris"
imagined the Greek goddess delivering messages for the gods
from the Underworld or souls Heavenward -
recall the day I sprinkled purple petals upon kitty's grave,
watched a few butterfly off upon summer's breeze
knew they escorted his spirit over rainbow's arch
as I hummed "once in a lullaby"
and sometimes a part of me, as I drift asleep,
goes back before the turning of things,
before my childish heart took a backseat
and I simply believed.
by Margaret Bednar, April 29, 2017
This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Imagined by Brendan - Penultimatums: Voyages' End (Almost)"