I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE!

It's Sunday morning in spring. I've just wakened.
I see the gray outside, and hear a heavenly, soft wind through the crack in the window.
The wind sounds like music.
I smile and turn over remembering it's Sunday.
Sunday, a day I often set goals like any other. What shall they be?

I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE!

The wind talking, the trees bending, the leaves changing the melody.
I reach to the stand beside my bed and slip in A Beethoven CD.
I can't seem to get enough of him since 33 Variations and The Soloist.
I stay still lulled by the sounds and the wind.
My mind drifts to the dance concert last evening with Barb.
The National Dance Co. of Spain.
Amazing choreography to Debussy and Schubert.
Dancers barely clad, no color, only amazing bodies.
Strength, motion, form, sound.
Somewhat like the wind and the trees.
All a meditation.
My drive home an experience of being one with my car.
I stay with Beethoven, I stay with daydreaming, I stay connected.

I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE.

I am naked in bed, inspired by the body forms that I'd taken in.
Wanting to feel the simplicity, the form of me.
Still bird songs outside. I smile, pleasuring.
Thinking of treasures, Thinking of love.
Wonderful memories of a Granddaughter's birthday, a Grandson's swim lesson.
Wonderful moments of the week past.

I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE.

I climb out of bed, smoothing the sheets and spread to my liking.
What next?
I suddenly know I must stay with this sensuous dance.
It's a commitment. It's important.
I don a soft patterned caftan, tights, my silk T.
No elastic strips, no tightness. Only soft, sensuous.
My gray hair looks soft and right in the mirror,
A constant challenge always.
A face wash,, a warm rinse, slow, dear.
I reach for the cologne, my favorite scent,
And allow myself its essence,


I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE.

A cup of coffee?
A snack? Or breakfast?
I remember the baked sweet potato strips, the horseradish dip
Tucked neatly on the frig shelf. For breakfast?
They accompany me to my deck, closer to the wind, the songs, the green.
Sweet tastes, fresh air, hot coffee.

I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE.

I stare into the woods, so full now, leafed to perfection
I see the tall, dead tree rising bare against the abundance.
That must come out, I think.
It's a flaw.
But the branches suddenly look like arms raised in dance,
The trunk a torso arched by a throbbing heart, topped with a head inspired.
My desire changes. I see the sculpture, the life in the wood,
The message.

I SHOULD GET SOMETHING DONE, I think.

And I have.