no, this is no poem, this is literal, or is it? I was taking a break from watching Tori Amos “Winter” reaction videos (I will get to that later, maybe), so I gave the dog a biscuit (at 15 she can still melt you with her eyes, but I do at least make her sit), went outside, for the first time today, I spent most of the day in bed, not from ill, free from harm, I could spend all day indoors as long as the rain pours, I knew from the forecast (not that that is ironclad) that it was supposed to rain today, and this is my once a quarter full weekend off (yes, I work 6 days a week solid, all year), so I can not say I have mastered the art, but I am sure an avid student of lucid dreaming, I am a big believer in it, well, at least for now, until something else comes along, as it always does, in life, so anyway, dog sated, I slip into my old beat up merrels, almost time for them to go, the back end wall is in terrible disrepair from my heel, but still, you could not pay any amount of money in the world for that true broken in feel, and besides, I have another pair I am secretly, slowly breaking in… and then it hits, the breeze, even with my windows open on the inside there is nothing like stepping into the space, occupied by the outside, now, this odd time of night but yet my mind is on fire and bright for some reason, probably all the rest today, I look to my right and my new calla lilies are as bright as I recall, the strong LED from my fancy new amazon ordered usb powered flashlight shows them to be like purple speckled canyons, collecting the rain in their cups, but in a few steps, the real fact, that impact, the smell, the verdant radiant intense grain of green of spring smell when the ground is wet, and soaked, like you can smell the earth herself, now, if you know me, my allergies are legion, so the powers of the nose avoid me often, but not on this evening, as you can not imagine, this is a treat, I can take it all in, and at times it is overwhelming (so is this what ‘normal’ people smell all the time?), granted, I understand, and I truly do, that my allergic affliction is but a blip on what can curse a person’s life, so I do not consider it a handicap, it is just my life, stuffed up nose, nasal voice, often shallow breath from the occasional asthma storm, so be it, I have it better than most, but tonight I am free of such host, for once, so I decide to walk among my babies, the only ones I have right now, my plants, such a strange year, the winter was not harsh, by our standards, but for some reason my bamboo varieties took a beating, even those long in the tooth that have been taller than my roof for years now, in fact my proudest batch looks the worst, but experience tells me, it has leaves it is still alive, green stalks are the sign of life, but still, you worry about your brood, correct? you always do, regardless of the years of experience, and near death experiences, until that first shoot pops up you wonder, did I do enough? and the way bamboo is, for those who do not know, it grows very tropical, when the conditions go right bamboo will pop a foot a day, so it goes from dead nothing to an explosion in an instance, so here I am wandering my property with a led flashlight looking at all the pots, seeing new shoots coming up from everyone now, a relief, but still so much work, and then I pause from my manic bamboo obsession, and take the night in.. damn, I almost think where in the world can I have this right now every night every time… but then… would this be special? if I lived in the florida keys, and saw those insanely azure seas every night… would I rejoice like I am now. and yet we yearn for such things… like a vacation, we want that encapsulation, that perfection, but would we tire of that if that was not the exception but the reality of every hour… of course we all want the opportunity to try that world, the world of a billion dollars, but all the money in the world can not buy right now, it could not if it tried, so I suppose I am lucky, and I am, I really am, to be walking around at 3am, with no major worries, less than some, more than some but a good life, I must remember that, and that my bamboo children, all nine varieties, seem ready to rise and shoot new children into the atmosphere, I check the last of my pots, the newest, which actually did the best this winter, all green leaves, and to this point, no new growth, no shoots, and I spot one, the relief, even with a variety that seems so strong, not a leaf gone from winter, what did a I really risk, nothing but still – somehow I feel responsible for these plants, maybe it is obsession or passion, all I know is that it helps me to come walk around and be part of something I built, even now, at 3am, a perfect chill in the air, seeing the droplets clinging to the next generation on which my superstition will be focused on next spring…

notes… still up now at 3:37am eastern… but I walked outside and felt inspired, so…