little loving gestures mixed

"....doctor, doctor, give me the news....I've got a bad case..."
Well, that's just about perfect for this day and days past...I have had the I-feel-like-death-warmed-over and/or I've-been-rode-too-hard-and-put-away-wet flu. And little loving gestures mixed in with it makes me first question some intentions. I mean- I'm hacking and coughing and feverish and JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE- and this sweeter than a blueberry pie Mainiac still comes around with poetry and flowers and wine and no whining, ever. Don't worry. I don't buy it either. He's probably an alien. For one thing- he's a big man, inside and out. Another- he's kind, even to teenagers! So, I'm thinking- martian...or, maybe a moon man. I have caught him howling a time or two... And he appreciates little things, like when I say thanks for this or thanks for that, when I laugh as the world seemingly cracks in half...I say how I appreciate this smile you've given me today. And then this extraterrestrial(?) smiles, too. Crazy, hypnotic alien stuff for sure. And we're not talking about love here, got it? Nope. This is science fiction, movie stuff, has to be...because I said so. This is my blog, and I can write about anything, in any way I want, and make it fit. Yep.
I cannot quite speak well of romantic love yet...for I never knew the size of this thing, how it might grow beyond any boundaries I lay out for it. It leaves one speechless, no words can contain it, describe it, fit it to fit. It becomes a menace when one tries to dissect it's essence-there is no ruler that can measure it, no cup that can hold it all, no mountain that can shade it. Love is borderless, beyond, below, above, around, through, in and out and everywhere...like a great ocean with no shore. So, out I'll float, with a firm boat??? built in planks of trust, friendship, respect, admiration, gratitude, joy, oh yes...joy shared, and shared and shared...always so much more than I can ever recollect or had ever hoped for. Oh, what faith have I in love? All the faith I need- is it enough, will it take more? Can I believe in it in times of trial again, will love see me through? True love? What is that? Does it mean I may borrow all I need and return it, even if it's used and worn over and over? Will it wear out or wear in? Does it not require all my attention, or do I accept it's longitude and latitude and keep flying higher, higher, to the heights of ecstasy and beyond? Are these questions to be questioned or should they be accepted as a doubter of love or a wonderer of love? Help me please, you lovers true and lovers old- what do you know that I do not? Does gray become you, in love?
For a true wonder, I'm awfully lost....happily, most sweetly, truly lost in some deep woods... compass isn't working, mine only points to North and South and East and West-which way is love? Pop quiz here, you will be graded by your comments- your answers must be felt from the heart, your experiences, or perhaps...if it has evaded you as well-speak of an inspiring love that you have observed-perhaps your grandparents? And if nothing comes to mind, it's ok. Have a good day anyway-hope the hearts and cards and candy don't drive you all to drink- I'm just saying, be careful. Love can sure make a sober fellow stinking drunk...
Take care-

the little ones on the edges...

Good early morning-
I wondered too much about what to write today, for truly the holidays are so bright, so lit up that every little dark corner is exposed, every shape and form is illuminated and I can see all too well, see that someone is missing and it pulls and tugs too hard at my heart, so-I'll speak of summer and the remnants that remain.
I plant many sunflowers every year-on the east and west sides, groves if you will. And also there are the volunteers, the jungle hybrids that pop up here and there, and I can never pull them, I must let them grow and grow they do. One in particular, the old soldier standing guard by the back door,(he finally gave all in this last ice storm, now I must step over his 6' remains, as he is frozen to the ground) the one that buzzed in honey bee greetings as you passed. The little bees thick covered legs with sun yellow bright pollen, the tiniest messengers of prescence oblivious to me as I passed by. Sunflowers out back, by the summer kitchen-decorated with the hanging of "wild canaries" (my name for them)-while you are inside the little room in the house where you do your, um...business, in concentration-the littlest of yellow birds doing theirs-hanging upside down, seemingly saying, tweeting-"Hmmm, what shall I have for lunch? This glorius fat sunflower seed, or the little ones on the edges, I do need to watch my figure." Well, that is what I imagine they are busy at-being selective in their smorgasborg that God and I have produced for their summer meals.
I leave these summer remnants, the millet and seed heads of coneflowers for my little friends, and some for the deer that I do not allow to trespass in the warmer months, but all gates are open for them in these cold winter days, they know of the deli out back and partake regularly of the popcorn I left standing just for them. Yes those glory days warm me up-keep me centered like the balancing act of my bright sunshiney friends. I think I'll carhart up(kind of like cowboy up-whatever the hell that means) and take a walk this morning. Don't worry, I'll bring you with me-and what your eyes cannot see your heart will absorb at a later posting, kind of like a blind date, in hindsight. Oooh, I'm stretching now...Be well, take care-