Sunday, April 24, 2011

For You


Yesterday afternoon, I happened to be near the front window when a little girl, wide-eyed in glorious innocence, picked one of our bright-red tulips and ran away.
My first thought: someone’s grandmother, embarrassed, proud, and pleasantly surprised.

16 comments:

~im just only me~ said...

I would have liked to have seen that, thanks for bringing it to life :)

Jan said...

Such a lovely little story. What a lucky little girl she was, that she chose a tulip from someone's yard who understood the moment.

Happy Easter, William, to you and your family~~~

rahina q.h. said...

yes... your response is like a cascade of precious understanding...

L.Holm said...

Beautifully said. The compulsion to grasp and hold life and beauty is innate. The capacity to forgive, truly golden.

erin said...

gifts all around then - what a gift for you to witness.

happy easter, william.

xo
erin

Magdalena said...

A moment distilled through the eyes of a man who sees no violation, revelling in the innocent impulse...

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Cassie. Seeing it brought me to life too.

Happy Easter, Jan. Thank you. The way it happened, I think the tulip chose the little girl as well.

Rahina, thank you for understanding.

Thanks, Liz. So true. And if we lose one, we lose the other.

Happy Easter, Erin. Thank you for bringing yours.

Magdalena, thank you. All too often, we make thieves of one another, and each time we do we harden ourselves that much more. What we have doesn’t really belong to us; it’s temporarily in our care.

Elizabeth @ Artscapes said...

Red tulips are so delicious. The colour and shape beckon to be taken home and cherished or shared.

Noxalio said...

it now has a new home and in its place, space, for yet another beauty to possibly catch the eye of one more wide-eyed child and inspire her to think of someone who would love to have that one ... i hope ... i wish you peace on this weekend, William ...

noxy.

incidentally, the word-verification for this comment of mine is "hytoon" ... ha ha ...

William Michaelian said...

Elizabeth, delicious is an excellent word for them. Thank you.

And thank you too, Noxy. How interesting that your word-verification should coincide with the aroma of today’s cooking.

Inspiration — that’s it exactly.

-K- said...

I love all these comments. Generous and non-judgmental.

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Kevin. Maybe one of these days, just for fun, we should dedicate a space to stingy and rotten comments and see how many people sign up. “Are you kidding? That’s a horrible idea....”

Old 333 said...

I wondered if it was little deers or little dears that got one or two outside my front step too; power to them. the tulips are everywhere! lots to go around.

William Michaelian said...

Or, Peter, as the great and glorious Three Stooges once said: “Does the deer have a little doe? Yeah — two bucks!”

(Come to think of it, they probably said it more than once. I know I have. But I suppose that’s where squirrels come in.)

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

.


The Misanthrope


Yes, humans are the problem, I always said,
why so many innocent now lay dead.
It’s the unrelenting, driving need, the primitive fire
that consumes all required to nurture self,
produce more seed, to achieve another birth.
The ultimate proverbial selfish gene,
like vermin in the pantry of the Earth.

Malaria, diphtheria, suburbia…
what difference among disease?
The destruction is the same despite the size.
The scale does not obscure the fact
of its effect, despite the lies, prevent
the gruesome truth of its result.
Yes, humans are the problem, I say,
by no selection of their own, just the unstoppable
unthinking base desire. Some like wolves,
some like rats, a virus in the body of the world.
I pretty much just hate them all.
I wish they’d pass like their empires do,
relinquish the realm to those who truly love it.

Later, at the store to get some beer,
a little girl, maybe seven, maybe eight,
made it to the door before me…little brat!
I reached to open it for her, she being a kid
and all, but she, being quicker, opened it first,
held it open with a great big smile of victory.
“Well, thank you.” I said gruffly, in my most adult
and appreciative voice. “You’re welcome.”,
the little angel said sincerely, without judgment,
without fear of the grumpy old man with the beard.
She skipped off after her mother. I stood there.
Shit! There goes the whole damned theory.
Maybe there’s hope for us after all.


Copyright 2008 – SOFTWOOD-Seventy-eight Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald

William Michaelian said...

And thus the softwood bends,
while the head to hardwood tends;
until we’re rescued once again
by an unexpected angel.

Thanks, Gary.