Beware, my daughter, of the robber fly.  I have killed a mating pair on the stoop of our cottage.  They have somewhat the look of a dragonfly - they appear both innocent and sinister, it is not easy to know which nature is true.  They have large eyes and a body that is streamline and graceful.  Their wings are the wings of wasp.  They are faster than a lightening flash.  The first time I felt one hit my face and fall to the ground, I looked at it and took pity on it because of its dragonfly look, although I knew without a doubt that it was not a dragonfly.  I would not kill it because I did not know that it did harm.  And even though it hit me in the face and left a welt, I picked up its body and threw it flying into the wind.  I would have done what needed to be done, if I had known what it would do next.

You know how the hummingbirds flock to the hibiscus?  The fiery blooms draw in butterflies, bees and humming birds with their musky, sweet scent.  I watched as a robber fly flung itself at one of our hummingbirds.  Just as it had thrown itself at my face, it flew with terrible intensity into the hummingbird, as the hummingbird struggled and as I yelled and ran to intervene the robber fly kept attacking over and over until the hummingbird lay motionless on the ground.

I scooped up the little iridescent body, it lay motionless and inanimate in the palm of my hand.  I created a bed of hibiscus leaves for it at the foot of the Mary and wrapped it in a bloom.  I will bury it once the night has set in, and the full moon shines clarity down onto the darkened Earth.

Once I had done what could be done for our sweet, hapless hummingbird,  I looked around the house for any trace of the robber fly and found two, not one, on our front stoop.  First one and the other flew at my face, catching up and pulling my hair.  I flew with great speed to protect myself, gathered up a scrap of wood the tinkerer had left behind and I swiftly and without remorse protected our hummingbirds, our butterflies and bees from any future harm.  And when I was done, I scooped up the robber flies' bodies and have sketched their form below so that you can absorb this picture and know them should you see in any in your travels.  This way, you will be less ignorant than your mum.



The most dangerous things in life, will deceive you first with their sweetness or allure and then they will sting and kill when you believe yourself to be safe.  Be less wary the wasp, as it wears its nature on its sleeve.  Be wary the robber fly and waste no time in debating its true nature.  For now you know the truth.  Let my mistake be your lesson ~

But if you should need to learn this lesson for yourself?  I will always love you, no matter what mistakes you make.  It is my wish and hope, though, that your mistakes will be your own and that they will not be mine.

Safe travels, my love, I hope they lead you home soon!

she walks on sand beach
electricity shoots from her toes,
this storm bringer,
this being of light.

long ago she left the dark manor,
there is no longer time for
tortured souls, for cruel dragons.

eyes turning toward the butterfly
madness, lilacs and whippoorwills,
there is a river twisting, it
whispers of the ocean, it asks
for her bones.

in shadow garden, the moon flowers
open, capturing light and lighting
the way ~ the three stand in low song.

it is a long goodbye, it is a new beginning.

she is young, in this dream ~
there is dew on the garden, her braid
is long and straight down her back.

the house is falling down, and the dust
carries death.  she breathes in life,
she doesn't know anything else to do.

there is a mason jar glittering with lightning
bugs, it sits quiet and desperate, on a cracked
concrete stoop ~ yet still they glow, throwing
hope forward against the glass.

and she hopes, too, always she is full of it
even when others try to slap it out of her.

so she packs boxes, humming the song of
life and death, she is moving to the land of
monarchs and eagles.  she will feel the hum
of the river beneath her heels ~

she will raise her hand, and open her skin,
and send her bones in southern tide,
to land on her mother's shore.

she knows about the shell collection,
she has seen the story written in the rock,
she knows the tree vein tale, she sings it,
she writes it on the air with lightening stroke.

venir, vous me trouverez dans le jardin.

come, you will find me wrapped in salted water.

you need never dry your tears, here you can cry forever.

dusk attaches itself to the ground,
tree bone shadows stretch, making
snow angels in whispered blue.

life is bountiful, boundless but
my voice?  your voice?
we are not made to last beyond
this one chance we have to embrace.

and once our souls lose the sound
of our voices, i do not believe
we are remembered, maybe just
felt as some haunting echo,
some ache in the bones of the future.

so come with me, and i will make
blueberry, gingerbread pancakes.
you will pour the orange juice
into the morrocan glasses.

we will dim the lights and light
the candles, talk about the day
and our dreams which lie beneath
it, and we will breathe in life
and be unafraid to live it.

with the deftness of a kitchen witch
i conjure up naughty things,
these cinnamon and sugar kisses.

he teaches me how to tend his garden,
it is all snakeroot and dragon water.
i supply the sunshine smile and
weed ready fingers.

starshine and ruby slippers.

laughing our way down an emerald path.

i shuffle in barefeet whispers.

i will gladly set up the red and white
tent for you, and invite all the
Edema Ruh ~ there is little, to
nothing i wouldn't do to make
your eyes shine, to make you lose
your quiet word inhibition.

come and try the chocolate
covered cherry wine, it will
make the whispered words
fall like moon shine, it will
illuminate the shadowed forest.

wrap your arms around my waist,
and pull me into you ~
your heart is my calliope,
tend to me and I will become
your once and future saturnalia.

the snow will sizzle when it
hits the roof, and the garden will
grow with abandon, bidden and
bound with Royal promises.

a year ago, I did't know the shape of his name
but today, I know his name and the words
that live beneath it.

in ocean drenched dreaming, he and I
stand across from each other ~

then he is above me,
swishing secrets,

then I am above him,
ruffling feathers,

when we land, we are facing each other

once again.

in the knowingness of the dreaming ~
we reach, each into the heart of the other,
holding in our hands the ruby scrolls.

a hope as warm and full of promise,
as a robin's egg.

I set his inside of me,
He folds mine, into his own.

We reach for each other,
then melt into embrace,
billowing emerald sky breaking open.

I will never be the same.

with strong, warm arms ~ he shelters me.

when I walk through spider webs,
his gentle fingers pull out the sticky
from my yellow hair tangle.

he tempts me
with his naughty grin and lets me fly.
he is a thousand kinds of beautiful,
but stunningly unaware.

he showed up at my house,
before our first kiss,
and in his hand he held
a garden vow ~

we were sealed,
my heart in his,
his heart in mine,
before our lips
ever touched.

maybe it was the piano key desk
heart to heart and the snow will fall
we are stars twining towards shine

hold me in your warm, winter arms
you are the sunny sand beach
you are true, your bones grow straight

i am whispering in a new year
all other colors get behind me
i will wear white and black

we make love in the grey

we will break open the rainbow
when we feel the need

let's peddle starfish poems
i have a little pebble in my pocket
it sings a tiny, shiny song

i will hum the tune ~

it goes like this ~

hold me, the snow is coming.