Summer Solstice 2009 - a reading (on YouTube)
Shadows slant from north to south as the sun continues its annual progress, a celestial pilgrimage through this sublunary realm.
The morning whispers in pearl white velvet as shadow cardinals dance behind the blinds. Outside, a knot of butterflies chase through the grass like a cloud of mischievous faeries playing tag on the wing. From ground level the lawn looks like a jungle, the ants a distant tribe of hunters pursuing their quarry high into the canopy. Elite arachnids in bright green and orange uniforms parachute down upon unsuspecting prey. Tiny wrens twitter warnings against each intruder lurking behind the morning leaves.
Suddenly, a gray stillness descends as though the world outside has paused for breath. Thunderheads obscure the horizon. Stormbound light casts long, double shadows directly south. The sky grumbles in strobed slow-motion with unheralded flashes of freeze-frame anger that capture the world in thunderously burning violet. Raindrops ripple and shatter the world's reflection in the mirror of an ancient pond.
Green leaves glow against a slate of purple clouds as the downpour trickles away into torrents of slanted sunshine. An indigo silhouette swoops in below the rooftops, an iridescent shadow with an offering of bread rinds it sacrifices at the hanging pool. At the bottom of that restless, rippled basin, in a spot of sunlight no larger than a silver dollar, a thousand summer dreams swim free.
As the sun melts and runs into an orange lake, a lavender sky oozes through the trees as evening slowly slips toward night. Beyond the field of twinkling, midsummer lights, the voices of the dead call as whippoorwills, a reminder that this time is brief and must not be forgotten.
© 2009 Edward P. Morgan III
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ReplyDeleteNotes and asides:
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As anyone reading the daily Twitter lines knows, this is a primarily compilation of daily lines from the past couple months with a few additions and some slight adjustments. Though I hope it works, telling a story of a summer day in the yard. Writing messages one line at a time is not vastly different than last year when I noted various lines sometimes weeks in advance. Though I can't claim the phrase "field of twinkling lights." Credit for that goes to my friend Beth on Facebook who was describing the fireflies where she lives in Tennessee. I loved that description.
People sometimes wonder how I learned to see the world this way, how I sometimes notice what I do. Ok, no one really asks, as I don't think they want the answer. But you get one anyway.
I was telling my aunt this week that when I was young, I used to lie on the floor and look at the ceiling. Something about the upside-down perspective made it quite interesting to my mind. Without much effort, I could imagine the ceiling was actually the floor, and the lights and ceiling fans furniture. Suddenly the pattern of the rooms in the house became a lot clearer, especially with the thought of the real furniture hanging from the ceiling like in the Poseidon Adventure. Once it locked into place, I saw details of the rooms and house I hadn't noticed as much before.
Turns out this is a pretty fundamental exercise for drawing. Instead of actually bothering to examine the details of something we look at, our minds tend to fill in what it sees with symbols and archetypes, which is why beginner's sketches tend to come out wrong. It's a survival skill, a way to interpret the world quickly so we can focus on what's important, like that tiger in the trees. But we can fool our mind into actually having to focus by confusing it, such as by drawing things in a mirror. Or upside-down. Then our mind doesn't know how to substitute something for what it sees so it actually has to look.
Once you get that basic skill of turning off that symbolic portion of your mind, colors, textures and details pop right out at you. Seriously, you should try it. Right now. Just lie on the floor and look up and see if you can get the world to invert. It's best to do with your head in a doorway or near a corner. That's when it really comes alive. Don't worry, your family or coworkers (or boss) will understand when you explain it to them. They may even lie down with you.
If you don't do that, at least do something else whimsical to enjoy the summer solstice.