Flight of the Bumblebee?

I saw an angry bee today...she wore her yellow t-shirt with righteous indignation, stretched taut over broad shoulders. Fists clenched, curls trembling, she stomped down the hallway; cartoonish in her polka-dot black stockings, pale knees peeking out below long, black shorts. Onlookers shrank in the wake of her departure.

Tao of the Bus

Most people might get their wisdom and enlightenment from the Dalai Lama, or Gandhi, perhaps Martin Luther King or Buddha. Mine comes from a woman I ride the morning bus with. She unconsciously smooths her snowy white hair as she bequeaths her thoughts to me. My teacher speaks eloquently of career changes, breast cancer, negative influences, even a shiner that would make Sugar Ray proud. You see, I befriended this wise woman after she took a spill while running to catch our bus. Face + sidewalk corner = immediate bruising, followed by friendship.

I work in the medical field, and I my inner "professional" kicked in as soon as she sat down beside me. I touch her rapidly swelling cheek when she asked me how it looked, and a mutual kinship began. She was shamefaced and timid that day, ego as bruised as her face. Even through her pain she was elegant and thoughtful.

Every time I've seen her since that first encounter, I learned something new about myself and humankind. Her anecdotes are timeless, profound. I often ponder her words long after I've left the musty confines of the city bus. I recall her flashing eyes of deepest brown, long-fingered hands punctuating thoughts and memories. My days begin with a woman as wise as yoda....how do yours begin?

Jazz=Love

Today I came across a poem I wrote when I first discovered jazz. I was a junior in college, a dreamer, and a sensitive girl. Jazz was something that attracted all parts of my complicated self. At this point, no other art form had ever had that much of an impression on me. Almost ten years have passed since I put pen to paper for this poem.

And even as I cast my dusted off poem into cyberspace, John Coltrane lights my way...

Night Falls on the dusky swing of the music, as the lone horn heats my blood like the finest bourbon. The golden tune strokes my fears and loneliness into submission. The intoxicating voice offers me a dance, and I accept as we sway with the moonbeams...far away from people and responsibilities outside my door.

Sultry heat weaves into the music, casting a spell over the dimly lit room. I lean my head back, closing languid eyes, seeing nothing...hearing only the bass drum of my heart in time with the lush tunes I am breathing in and out.

The night and the soft music resume their love affair and I am glad just to feel the passionate heat. Nothing exists but the pulse of the melodic tones...not the past or future or love or hate-only the rush of the music that brings my blood to a slow boil, as I stretch out on my bed...allowing that simmering feeling to leave everything behind in its wake.

The moon glides stealthily across the sky, its inky partner -night- creeps up behind. I am oblivious to the chase above me, my toe tapping as Louie croons to the reddest corner of my heart.