She sat cross-legged
On a Red Toadstool
And waited for the North Wind
To howl
And tip the Waxing Crescent
Into a sailboat
Spinning her in Whirlpools of Stars
Launching her through Galaxies.
But in the meantime
One-thousand years passed -
She saw Crabgrass grow,
A Helix Pomatia slide by,
Thought about eating Escargot,
And spoke to foreigners about Slide Shows.
“Oh snap!” she said.
“My toadstool is rotting away!
Where oh where is that North Wind?”
“Conditions must be just right, my Dear”,
Responded the Escargot,
“Suns must melt
Creating Avalanches of wind
Across Polar Caps and then,
Then the North Wind will blow”
She thought the Escargot
Must have Wisdom
Invested in that Spiral Shell
His birth was at the very center
And with growth came round-and-round expansion
Until he spoke wisdom right where that shell
Ended and his head poked out.
She wanted to trace that Wisdom
With her fingertips, round and round
So she reached out,
And the Escargot slid
Ever so slightly away,
So she asked,
“Why is the Moon so new?
Will it ever wax away?”
But the Night grew Long
And the Escargot fell asleep
Again…….
And the Stars teased with their twinkles
And Whirlpools.
And she fell asleep too
With her Brownie Camera
Tucked under her chin
And she dreamt of sailboats
Riding the Currents
Gathering Orion
And seaspraying his sword
Into One-thousand comets
One for each year she waited.
Morning Sun came
And she awoke
To a slimy trail, moving away,
Going off through the Crabgrass
And she wondered
If she slept right through the North Wind
And if the Escargot would ever return
To answer her questions.
So she counted Notions
And Dewdrops
And mixed them with her fingertip
On the Red Toadstool.
She fell asleep under many
New Moons
And watched
The Crabgrass grow
Capturing every rotting toadstool Moment
With her Brownie Camera
Until one Middle of the Night
She dreamt
And fingertip traced
That Escargot shell
Right into her Dreamland
She took its photo with her Brownie Camera
And thought she heard an Avalanche of Wind
Blowing across Polar Caps
When suddenly the chill came
And made her Nightgown shift
Ever
So
Slightly
At year Five Hundred.
But the rotting toadstool
Collapsed
Jolting her awake
And she knew she was only at Year One,
Month One,
Day One or Two.
And she was hungry for Escargot.
“Maybe I will die right here”,
She wept,
“Because the North Wind
Will never Howl,
The Waxing Crescent
Will never tip,
And Sailboat Moons
Do not exist
To launch me through Whirlpools of Stars
And Galaxies”.
But she waited anyways
Because that is what Dreamers do.
“It will be okay”,
She said,
“I still have my Brownie
To take me places”.
And she left that spot,
Where the Red Toadstool rotted to Brown
And chased down that Escargot
By following his Slimy Trail.
Many years of chasing passed
And then
She finally found him
On the Edge
Musing about Life
But they were both Elderly
By then
And the conditions were never right
For Suns to melt
Creating Avalanches of Wind
That tip the Waxing Crescent
Into a sailboat
That spin and launch through Stars
And lastly
Her Questions went unanswered.
And then she laughed hysterically
Because the Calendar read ‘Day Two’
And she continued on to Day Three
Waiting and Dreaming.
© Expressions by Christine 12/28/10
