ladybug 1

an agitated ladybug lands on your knee. she spins and dances like a sufi in meditation. she pauses and stares at you. she gets impatient and beats her wing-covers at you. it takes several beats to break you out of your trance.

“oh, hello. sorry, i was greatly enjoying watching you dance. it’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?”

she doesn’t speak exactly but somehow her thoughts seep in. she’s amazed to be here. she’s happy but isn’t questioning it—well, too much.

“I know what you mean,” you say. And you tell her about your day.

I was rudely and unwillingly woken up this morning. It was quite alarming. There was something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. There were these things floating all around me. I sit up in bed and huddle in the corner pulling the blankets up around my chin. The floating thing were streaked with light. It slowly come to me. The sun is out!

I leap up and pull on my summer clothes. I rush outside, banging my toes and shins on tables and chairs. I yank the front door open and the sun hits me in the eyes. I’m blind and stunned and stumble out into an explosion of colors and heat. I’m alive.

I head to the park and watch the sky brighten. The grey has been replaced by a pale yellow swatch. Wisps of clouds are still lingering around; little by little they break up and fade into pale blue.

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