Excelsior!

I thought Excelsior! was something that you shout! Onwards! Upwards! Apparently Henry Wadsworth Longfellow thought so too. Perhaps the youth in the poem really needed packing material. And then the State of New York adopted it as a motto, meaning higher rather than packing material. Though the wood shavings to pack things were named Excelsior after the poem was written.

Now that I have confused myself and you, I will just say Excelsior when I see all the goldfinches at the feeder. Higher! Wood shavings! Birds!

I took this at my feeder in June 2022.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: excelsior!

Stone heart

My mind is done and unsurprised. My heart a stubborn rock.
My heart does not give up: loves where it loves. It doesn’t care
about reality or whether it is derided or mocked.
My mind moves on and kicks my heart, wondering where
this tenacity stems from. My heart is done with tears.
It agrees to new friends and joys in dance.
When my mind says forget, my heart jumps and steers
my body into a warrior fighting stance.
My mind is cynical and laughs and derides my heart.
I let them fight back and forth every day.
I cannot reach an end unless I start
to honor my feelings, the heart must hold sway.
My mind moves on, ignoring what you do.
Yet my stubborn heart remains a friend, strong and true.

catch

Catch

What bucket can catch this light and color?
None, I think, and then I think I am wrong.
A bucket lowered and set in the water,
Turquoise and blue and black, a song.
Lift the bucket and the turquoise is gone.
Reflected light, a dance on on the riffles.
It’s like the happiness for which we long.
Caught for a moment, containment stifles
the reflection of joy in our face and hearts.
The face that lights from music or dance
or a moment touched by another’s art.
Let joy come and go, take the chance.
The light on the water will be gone at night.
Joy wants to be free and not held too tight.

I heard the band The Winetree last September in Ohio.

Sonnet 17.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bucket.

Celebrate

I took this last May. Let’s celebrate with watermelon balloons hanging from the ceiling! They are red like the Valentines though they are green too. I thought they were awfully cheerful and rather unexpected.

Happily, these are not suspected spy balloons and do not need to be shot down.

Meanwhile, a zoo has gotten creative about ex partners. For a small fee, they will name a cockroach or a carrot after your ex and feed it to a zoo animal. I hope they don’t get indigestion. That really is delightfully silly and creative.

There are still people found alive in earthquake rubble: more prayers and let’s celebrate that.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: celebrate! Welcome to our newest prompter, Perpetua.

And here is a celebratory song:

I think of you as dead

I think of you as dead.
Love is not dead, not mine for you.
This is not respectful to those
truly dead. Yet you are dead to me
in that you lie and say forever.
Torched and ashes, now it’s never
and the real you is dead to me.
I love the you that made a different choice,
that loved me back. He holds my hand
and walks with me and laughs with me
daily. And there is nothing you can do
to stop him and me. If anyone asks, you are dead
to me, dead forever, and I will love
whoever my heart chooses, for all time.

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I found the chalcedony nodule on Indian Island yesterday.