Milky Stars
Last night after work I drove out to the farm. Not sure why I had to go, but I did. Still in my dress shirt, long skirt, and sandals I went to meet the people in overalls and rubber boots. I ate fresh corn on the cob with them, watched day exhaust itself into night. Called cows home in a foreign tongue, and to my surprise, I got to milk one. With a corner of my skirt tucked up into my waist band, I traded my sandals for knee high rubber boots, and the lesson began. Nervously I ducked under, leg length. Grasp, squeeze pull. Nothing.
Grasp, squeeze, pressure, pull, out shot a spray of milk into the plastic cup. Not wanting to hurt the cow I tried to be gentle, and retired after a the cup was less than a quarter filled. Later I was to find out, this cow had a lot more milk to give. The family, suggested I try drinking this freshly squeezed milk. Nervous, apprehensive, I brought the cup to my lips. The milk still warm, tasted sweet. One sip. The strange feelings of having taken something that was not meant to be mine filled my chest. This is not my mother's milk. This was not meant for my body and nourishment. I couldn't get past this feeling, so I passed the cup back.
But the night was magic. Playing in, hanging out with love, animals, and a few brand new black kittens. I wish I wasn't so allergic. They are giving them away, and they are ADORABLE. Black with bright yellow eyes. Of course I would love one.
But I digress. This is my night in other words:
Last night after work I drove out to the farm. Not sure why I had to go, but I did. Still in my dress shirt, long skirt, and sandals I went to meet the people in overalls and rubber boots. I ate fresh corn on the cob with them, watched day exhaust itself into night. Called cows home in a foreign tongue, and to my surprise, I got to milk one. With a corner of my skirt tucked up into my waist band, I traded my sandals for knee high rubber boots, and the lesson began. Nervously I ducked under, leg length. Grasp, squeeze pull. Nothing.
Grasp, squeeze, pressure, pull, out shot a spray of milk into the plastic cup. Not wanting to hurt the cow I tried to be gentle, and retired after a the cup was less than a quarter filled. Later I was to find out, this cow had a lot more milk to give. The family, suggested I try drinking this freshly squeezed milk. Nervous, apprehensive, I brought the cup to my lips. The milk still warm, tasted sweet. One sip. The strange feelings of having taken something that was not meant to be mine filled my chest. This is not my mother's milk. This was not meant for my body and nourishment. I couldn't get past this feeling, so I passed the cup back.
But the night was magic. Playing in, hanging out with love, animals, and a few brand new black kittens. I wish I wasn't so allergic. They are giving them away, and they are ADORABLE. Black with bright yellow eyes. Of course I would love one.
But I digress. This is my night in other words:
What are the sounds of a soul burning?
Crackling and sparking while branches fall.
The coals, lit with passion.
The embers, stolen words.
Twirling, head up, gaze fixed on the stars.
Around and around with fluent motion.
The wet grass between my toes and laughter echoing in my heart.
The song, a 3 year old playng the ground with a stick.
Percussion.
Kon, kon. Kon, kon.
Dance.
Laughter, step, laughter step.
The words don't matter this time.
Hearts open, let the stars sing.
<< Home