Musing

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

13C/55F (high 23C), light cloud, we avoided the park as a 2nd cougar has been seen (so many cougars around I expect someone will open a bar); small duck flotillas, Gusta wanted to say hi to her little friends, trees heavy in leaves – most green but some, already, turning yellow at the edge . . mid-summer dream soon ‘that’s all she wrote’ – on every tree, each leaf unique like a finger print or a snow flake (sorry) to remind us of our similarities, of our unique difference

in a word – a word; the right word, not the left, the write word . . to light, to lighten, to enlighten - cliché day - a leaf turned, ‘that’s all she wrote’, met a four time; puns, twists with words, typos, double entendres – amazing how phrase twists, a right key or left shift meaning, turn a thought; sometimes absurd, sometimes wisdom inside, some times I metaphor, one time I met a ten; typos offering insight in sight, what a sight – they interest me more (slightly) than puns; I saw one yesterday - someone describing the relationship she wanted – wishing lightning to strike, but typed it wrong – or maybe she got it right after all – it came out ‘lightening’ - better left that way, that’s all she wrote, no right word is better

flammable, inflammable – same no matter how we spell it - no right or wrong way, no mistake changes meaning; either way the sight of this word makes me want to light a fire under something, torch an idea, scorch another, singe something – sauté something, smother a flame softly, ignite something that smolders lightly, something that keeps heat alive for a long time . . but I digress; when someone leaves, sometimes something’s left behind, right? . . some sense of them remains (scents for my smelling friends) – in print - so easily becomes imprint, pattern on back of a leaf – roadmap of many paths, each one ending at an edge, to return in reverse on the other side; no hidden message there but something that has always fascinated me . . the pattern flipped over does not look like a mirror image but rather an entire new thing, a fresh surface to examine, just like people I suppose – flip them over and you have another side of them to explore; spine the same, branches the same but we see another side, quite unlike the side we’ve witnessed, new opportunities to examine unfolding

back to leaves, coloured green – subtle twists of yellow and orange at the edges as a real sunlamp works magic leaving hair and leaves lightened – especially on these summer days, the ones that end in thunder storms, when lightning – those bolts out of the blue shake us up, thrill us magically for a moment - like when we experience flammable, we are inflamed, then we simmer, we reduce heat to enjoy summer’s warmth but we cool off a little

big hug to DL, one of the marvelous leaves on anyone’s friend tree, celebrates today; you know the kind of birthday - one that does not end in a zero or a five, not a gasp or a fret – enlightened, enlightening and lightening

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and lighting bug.” – Mark Twain

leaves hang on trees, hang on – not all leaves leave, not all leaves are all green, not all friends enlighten, but the good ones lighten – a day or the sky or your load - they always do

Mark Kolke
223,104
201.8


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