Hangin' in There

How’s goin’ with you?


Fine, I hope.


Me? Oh, I’m still hangin’ in there ... like a butterfly clinging to a flower, sipping the nectar, thinking about a next move ... or maybe nothing at all.


But believe me ... I don’t flit like a butterfly ... and I certainly don’t sting like a bee.


Oh, I still sprint! That is, I rush from one task to another (they always seem so difficult to catch up to) ... but, truth be told, my sprinting is a relative term. Compared with a large, soil-embedded rock ... or a cornerstone, maybe ... my movement is ... well, “sprinting.”


At least I’m still moving ... or was, the last time I checked. 


Like I say, here I am, clinging to the trailing edge of technology ... by my fingertips ... wondering when I’ll lose my grip ... and not daring to look down to see how far I might fall, if I were to lose my grip.


And I’m lovin’ every minute of it ... though my fingers are aching ... and my hair ... what’s left of it ... is poppin’ and snappin’ in the breeze.


-S&G-


TODAY’S QUOTE ... courtesy of WALT, Ohio: “Keep your face to the sunshine and you will not see the shadows.” - Helen Keller


-S&G-


FOUND in one of the teetering stacks here at Brimm Manor ... this from HELEN, Florida: 


She’s looking for a good book ... “Any suggestions? If you do ... please rule out depressing books that never let up on that feeling. True ... I like a book to take me out of my world, but I like to be entertained if it’s a novel or a mystery. I don’t mind a few tears, but better if it’s mixed with a few laughs.”


Also:


“Has anybody seen any good movies? Maybe this doesn’t fit into Squiggles ... I just don’t like to pay for a pig in a poke and then spend my time with a bad movie.”


-S&G-  


TODAY’S POEM: I will always remember that butterfly, and that once in a lifetime event, as described in today's poem. 


I remember precisely the hillside on which I was sitting when the butterfly found me. I had been mowing the grounds of a friend's summer home in Southern Ohio. It was a hot, steamy day. The mower had become balky, so I decided we both needed a rest ... a bit of cooling off.




I was just sitting there, hoping for a bit of breeze, when it happened. But let's let the poem tell what occurred:




BUTTERFLY


I remember sitting
so still, feeling
the sweat trickling
down my back, beading
along my forearms,
a touch like
an angel's breath
when a butterfly
fluttered down
onto my sunburned
hand and sat there
for the longest time
before sipping
that moisture born
of hard labor, then
lifted lightly off, wafted
away like a dream.
© 1996
(originally published in Read, America!)


-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


 rbrimm@peoplepc.com




... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


And if you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog,  here’s a link to it:


http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/


Thanks for paying a visit.




-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-


©  2010