Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena moved with purpose today – no absent-minded thoughts, no amplified daydreams, no haunting masquerades, no head in the clouds, no conspiring notations on deities. Instead, her limbs and strides elongated, elegant and refined, but determined nonetheless, threading her way through the market, basket on her arm, gentle smile on her features, a wayward grace inhabiting her essence. A glide, a sweep, a turn, and she was down another range of streets, youthful hellos called out to those she knew well, considered friends and acquaintances, beloved and considered, waves upon waves along the bazaar’s outreach.
Eventually, she reached her desired destination, clinging to the stall and kiosk filled with the variety of items she sought. “Madam,” and she bowed her head towards the keeper, a warm, enriched grin enlightened along features – as if she hadn’t been coming here for years upon years, the mocking laugh extended back to her in return infusing those warm regards. Habitual and distinct, the other woman grabbed hold of her regular items, bandages, these ones new and not worn, burnt, frayed, or completely destroyed by the latest animal, and some other medicinal herbs. “You know me so well,” and she winked, extending payments, barters, and bargains in return, before hastening further down the lane, intending to snag some lunch.
Except, perhaps out of her inattention to surroundings (unlike the youth), perhaps out of someone else’s lack of consideration or observation, her basket was jostled by a stray elbow – sending the whole volley of carefully wrapped linens down, down, down, unraveling along the stones. Lena dashed after them, and the only sign of frustration was the disappeared smile, the rush of movement and motion to chase the wayward dressings.
Eventually, she reached her desired destination, clinging to the stall and kiosk filled with the variety of items she sought. “Madam,” and she bowed her head towards the keeper, a warm, enriched grin enlightened along features – as if she hadn’t been coming here for years upon years, the mocking laugh extended back to her in return infusing those warm regards. Habitual and distinct, the other woman grabbed hold of her regular items, bandages, these ones new and not worn, burnt, frayed, or completely destroyed by the latest animal, and some other medicinal herbs. “You know me so well,” and she winked, extending payments, barters, and bargains in return, before hastening further down the lane, intending to snag some lunch.
Except, perhaps out of her inattention to surroundings (unlike the youth), perhaps out of someone else’s lack of consideration or observation, her basket was jostled by a stray elbow – sending the whole volley of carefully wrapped linens down, down, down, unraveling along the stones. Lena dashed after them, and the only sign of frustration was the disappeared smile, the rush of movement and motion to chase the wayward dressings.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
