While Minding My Own Business,
I was traveling along in my mind the other day, searching for a random thought about a certain something, when I came across an outcrop. Not in my mind, no, but an actual outcrop from a hill.
Sitting on the outcrop, believe it or not, was a small practically transparent Pherosa. It may seem odd, since there are so few Pherosas around, but when you see an unusual something sitting on an outcrop that is practically transparent, well. That is exactly what will come to mind.
“Can I help you?” It said, and come to think of it I did need a little help with a lot of things. For one, I was concerned about what to do with the rest of my life, and so I asked its name. “Pherosina", said the Pherosa. "Rosey for short.”
“Do you ever wonder what life is all about?” I asked.
“Not since I gave up wondering about death”, said Rosey.
I had a leaf last year, a leaf on a tiny stem, born that spring, it was a wrinkled little thing (said Rosey). It spread itself and found its lobes and oh how green it was! Shinny and dark, soft and powdery along the bottom veins.
That small red stem became a lanyard in the stormy weather and winds, holding on to its barky root -- Oh, what a leaf! It caught a bug or two, but leaf was a gracious soul and didn’t mind the necessary wear and tear.
Leaf seemed to sere a little in the hot dog days, but then it blazed again in early crimson!
Then one day almost like the day before, my leaf let go of its life. My Beautiful leaf! Deep maroon and scarlety orange, it folded and fluttered down, turning, falling --
What happened then I cannot say. It caught itself in a circling wind and whooshed away as if it never was. Although I may have seen it floating in a puddle; I couldn’t tell for sure.
“Sit here a minute”, Rosey said, and I sat down beside. Or maybe more or less beside, since Pherosas merge a lot with those beside them.
“Well I don’t know what to say”, I said.
“I had to let it go”, said Pherosina. “I almost missed the stark dry days that year, the smell of pine and needle greens, the snowy mittens and new days of winter fighting for light.
Besides I know that all things have a new beginning, even though I don’t know how they do it.”
Sitting on the outcrop, believe it or not, was a small practically transparent Pherosa. It may seem odd, since there are so few Pherosas around, but when you see an unusual something sitting on an outcrop that is practically transparent, well. That is exactly what will come to mind.
“Can I help you?” It said, and come to think of it I did need a little help with a lot of things. For one, I was concerned about what to do with the rest of my life, and so I asked its name. “Pherosina", said the Pherosa. "Rosey for short.”
“Do you ever wonder what life is all about?” I asked.
“Not since I gave up wondering about death”, said Rosey.
I had a leaf last year, a leaf on a tiny stem, born that spring, it was a wrinkled little thing (said Rosey). It spread itself and found its lobes and oh how green it was! Shinny and dark, soft and powdery along the bottom veins.
That small red stem became a lanyard in the stormy weather and winds, holding on to its barky root -- Oh, what a leaf! It caught a bug or two, but leaf was a gracious soul and didn’t mind the necessary wear and tear.
Leaf seemed to sere a little in the hot dog days, but then it blazed again in early crimson!
Then one day almost like the day before, my leaf let go of its life. My Beautiful leaf! Deep maroon and scarlety orange, it folded and fluttered down, turning, falling --
What happened then I cannot say. It caught itself in a circling wind and whooshed away as if it never was. Although I may have seen it floating in a puddle; I couldn’t tell for sure.
“Sit here a minute”, Rosey said, and I sat down beside. Or maybe more or less beside, since Pherosas merge a lot with those beside them.
“Well I don’t know what to say”, I said.
“I had to let it go”, said Pherosina. “I almost missed the stark dry days that year, the smell of pine and needle greens, the snowy mittens and new days of winter fighting for light.
Besides I know that all things have a new beginning, even though I don’t know how they do it.”
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| A Semblance of Rosey |
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