Saturday, April 10, 2010

Week in Seven Words #10

I've never found the sound of bees pleasant or cheerful. I wish they could stay silent as they descend on the daffodils or poke around window frames and doors. One bee I spot is especially bold. It hovers right over the center of a footpath. People duck to either side to avoid walking into it; one young man on a skateboard makes a last-minute swerve that nearly lands him in the mulch.

Petals, fallen from the trees and crushed underfoot, are slippery on the pavement. They release a smell of sticky sweetish rot.

I'm touched that he'd turn to me for advice on a personal matter. But even as I do my best to talk out the situation with him and discuss different options, I'm nagged by the feeling that my words aren't enough. I wish there were more time to consider the issue properly.

Music moves him deeply; it always has, and it still does. When I sing to him on the phone, it's as if I'm singing with him, because his intense yearning to sing is audible; sometimes I think I can hear his voice as it used to be, accompanying mine.

I'm content when I settle into the present moment - as when I walk in the warm sun and cold wind with a man who sees things quite well, even though his eyes don't show him anything. When I'm clustered with good friends on armchairs, and I focus only on their talk and laughter, and for the moment there are no worries.

Her small circular Spiderman cushion doesn't remain a cushion for long. It transforms into many things - primarily a shield to go with her imaginary sword, but also a hat worn at a tilt on her head. It also changes into a bird's nest cradling a clutch of eggs, and at one point takes the shape of a shallow flower pot that she carries proudly at her elbow. When she's faced with a large crack in the sidewalk, the cushion becomes a handy bridge that saves her toes from plummeting.

The delight of studying something serious and complex when it's past two in the morning; we're making our points with arm-waving, loud proclamations, and giggle-yawns. Somehow everything sounds extraordinarily sensible and clear.


naida said...

I like the passage for 'immerse'. The part about being with good friends is very true.

John Hayes said...

I guess you wouldn't like Yeats' "bee-loud glade"! "Bombinate" is another great word. "Constriction" is a poignant sketch, & I too like "immerse," tho perhaps especially for the first part of the passage. Also quite taken by the brief description of "cloying" & the longer description of "possibilities."

Ciara said...

Beautiful descriptions. I especially liked 'constriction', very moving, and possibilities'.

Eberle said...

Bombinate - wow. Could the word abombinate be used as well? One of those verb-adjective things i.e. "the heart, aflutter, sees no future"? Like, "the bee, abombinate in mid-air, is hazardous"? I've never found the sound pleasant or cheerful either - but filled with a wild knowledge that can be(e) ecstatic or deeply ominous, but not really part of a reality we understand very well...

Your Week this week seems filled with forking emotions...and the illumination that can come from this peculiarly intense kind of lightning?

'possibilities' - I love this so much. It's so real, so true to a certain kind of imagination that I associate with my childhood selves. It makes me wish I could enter this landscape and stay for a good long time.

patteran said...

You use this format so well. Through it you entertain, provoke and move in equal measure.

HKatz said...

Bombinate... I remember that when I first learned that word I thought, "how fitting..." Especially for those fat hairy bees. (And I'm willing to accept the use of abombinate too)

Thank you all for stopping by and commenting; I love reading your reactions to these word pictures (word vignettes).

Relyn said...

am cracking up. I saw bombinate and thought it said "boobinate." As you can imagines, I thought you were going to write all sorts of interesting things here.