Mind of The Wandering Monk: #0003 -The Universe, Drugs and Motherhood
We stand in the rain on the front porch, with cars splash-passing in the dark road. My neighbor, Anthony, drinking a hard cider, doesn’t blink when I ask if he’d be willing to share the poem he’s reading with all of you folks at home. Then we play music; he, the woman he loves, and I. He strums six strings, she runs fingers along the black and white keys, and I snap a beat with taps and slaps. Their voices, together, bounce through melodies, as they look at one another with a tenderness that pushes the rest of everything outside the room.
Just beyond the rain comes a couch session over lavender tea. Alexandria reads a few of her words – shorts, and starts without ends. (The rapid transition from subjects like death and birth may lead you into the same stunned awe, which took me late that night.) There’s a courage in her words that can only be known by those who open the door to their soul, knowing very well the weather might turn. Her voice holds wonder and wisdom. She has soft, night-sky hair a mile long, laughter like spring flowers. Something tells me we’ll hear more from her soon.
Many thanks go to Mike as well, for sliding us between the stories with his melodious twang. And if I left you wanting cookies, or to go on bug hunting adventures illuminated by flashlights when you hear the end of this episode, I’m happy to join you for both. Give me a call, and we’ll head on out.
If you’ve read this far and haven’t listened yet, just know it’s meant to be easy and sweet. This one’s mostly poems and rain.
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