The leaves are full of metaphors

[twoweevils]

1. I have an infected index finger. I don't know why. There's no cut, not even a hangnail. Just redness and swelling between the bottom of the nail and the first joint. It hurts. Good thing I'm going to the doctor today.

2. I'm going to the doctor today. It's my annual physical. This is a good thing and you should all have one every year. Maybe she can tell me why I'm suddenly getting every cold and sniffle that comes around. This and the finger infection makes me wonder what the hell my immune system is doing these days. I'm nervous, as always, and I hate pelvic exams beyond the telling of it.

3. My uncle died on Tuesday. The viewing is tonight and the funeral is tomorrow. I'm happy that he's free of the Alzheimer-induced misery of the last five years. He'd always been very active and had such a quick wit. Seeing him so frail and sad was heartbreaking and I can only imagine how frightening and confusing it was for him. My mother was talking about how glad he'd be to get to hang out with my father and brother again. I hope that's where he is.

4. Canadian poet Irving Layton has died. I am not a poetry person, but Layton's work always inspired me. I got to meet him at a U of T wine and cheese thing and even then, at age 77, or so, he was hot. He had this wonderful energy and spark. And what a flirt!

I leave you today with my favourite Layton poem (yeah, I know, it's EVERYONE'S favourite):

Berry Picking by Irving Layton

Silently my wife walks on the still wet furze
Now darkgreen the leaves are full of metaphors
Now lit up is each tiny lamp of blueberry.
The white nails of rain have dropped and the sun is free.

And whether she bends or straightens to each bush
To find the children’s laughter among the leaves
Her quiet hands seem to make the quiet summer hush –
Berries or children, patient she is with these.

I only vex and perplex her; madness, rage
Are endearing perhaps put down upon the page;
Even silence daylong and sullen can then
Enamour as restraint or classic discipline.

So I envy the berries she puts in her mouth,
The red and succulent juice that stains her lips;
I shall never taste that good to her, nor will they
Displease her with a thousand barbarous jests.

How they lie easily for her hands to take,
Part of the unoffending world that is hers;
Here beyond complexity she stands and stares
And leans her marvelous head as if for answers.

No more the easy soul my childish craft deceives
Nor the simpler one for whom yes is always yes;
No, now her voice comes to me from a far way off
Though her lips are redder than the raspberries.

Before this morning, I hadn't re-read that poem in some years. It's amazing how much more it resonates with me, now that I have someone to look at with that kind of love.

M.

Comments

[no-detective.livejournal.com]

Thank you for sharing that beautiful poem.

*hugs just because*

[twoweevils.livejournal.com]

*hugs back* Layton was a bastard a lot of the time, but he really could paint a picture with a few words.

M.

[zora-sourit.livejournal.com]

A huge heartfelt hug goes out to you. Hope everything will be better soon. I´m Thinking of you!

[twoweevils.livejournal.com]

Thank you, hon. *hugs*

M.

[twoweevils.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. He was my favourite uncle -- and considering there were something like 18 to choose from, that's pretty high praise.

The exam had very little to recommend it. She had some trouble getting the thing to where the other thing is until I finally held my breath and bore down. *shudder* Why do we even have nerve endings way up there? There's nothing there anyone should want to mess with! Trust me!

M.

[jonesiexxx.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry about your uncle, honeybee.

[twoweevils.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

M.