that I wrote this morning

9.6.12 Thursday.

Hello, good morning, Old Hagness sweetly whispers into my ear. 

I pour the French Market Coffee with Chicory, the darkest of dark

brew into her North Shore Mug, and she wrinkles her nose,

she wants her big dragon mug, and I say, I do not have a big

dragon mug, and she says, well you better get one then.

I smile to myself. Oh, yes, I've been looking for one for some time,

but just can't find one. Well then, she smiles at me, you have a job

cut out for yourself. Get yourself, no get me, a big dragon mug.

And how I love dragons, wild Chinese dragons, Taoist dragons

of the spirit world. And I know Old Hagness loves them too,

and then the Great White Dragon swoops into our room,

and I breathe in her energy, her wild and wonderful and

colorfully beautiful energy that swoops me up and twirls me

into the cyclone with Old Hagness and we spiral up,

and up, through the ceiling, through the roof, into the

absolutely clear blue sky, the cool, end-of-summer

fun air that fills our city, and we swirl up higher and higher

out of the atmosphere of our home planet, further and further

and we are no longer bodies but a swirling mass of molecules

and space and time swirling and dancing tiny tiny

particles of matter, smaller than molecules, smaller than atoms,

smaller than electrons and protons and neutrons, so small

they have no names and we swirl and twirl and the

coffee mug bits of matter and the dark coffee are

all part of this swirling mass of energy and matter

all in a dimension where everything interchanges,

matter dissolves into energy, energy coagulates in particles,

we are the big wild dragon of the universe. And the White Dragon

of many stories and memories herds us back together and we slowly

descend through the blue clear autumn sky, the clouds, the air

the roof, the ceiling, coagulate back into our normal bodies,

our normal selves, back into the morning coffee time,

the time of slow conversation, silent communion,

awakening unto day. And so this

one day begins with gentle music,

memories and moments that unfold,

each twirling in space, mixing,

communing, being one, being many.

And so this day flows into the actions

of today, other todays, each new,

each never occurred before,

never will occur again.

And we, Old Hagness and I, we sit here,

this moment, with our coffee, and words

and together and separate, musing,

breathing, being.

preciousqueentheodora III