maybe forgetting is, sometimes, better than holding a memory.
because, then, there is the chance
(the possibility)
that you will, at some ordinary moment,
unforget.
mostly, i unforget the every day.
like the fact that we have blue
(blueblueblueblueblue)
morning glories on the back fence.
blue!
&, sometimes, i'm the lucky finders-keepers of a left-behind feather. not forgotten, i suppose, but unimportant to the bird & discarded near the feeder for me to discover after an exuberant re-filling of the seed (with extra flung in a wide arc for the ground feeders).
just in time for me to unforget (again) that we have blueBLUEblue morning glories against the back fence.
they are, to me, hypnotic in their blueness. a blue zen.
& the white-hot center so bright a white
i have to look away before i am blinded.
the zinnias, hold-outs from the rabbit wars, continue blooming, blissfully unaware or unconcerned that i am eyeing the dirt plot for winter crops. (silly me. how soon we forget!)
one at a time, they grace the kitchen window - plunked down in an empty can of Izze. they are durable, these zinnia, with thick, upright stems which look deceptively fuzzy but are actually coarse and prickly if your fingers stray against the grain.
mostly, i forget to end chores before things go bad. or, as i prefer to think of it, optimism gets in my way. i put a pot of water on the stove to make tea, forgetting that pots of water boil very quickly whenever you stop watching them to finish just one more thing. i hang laundry out to dry, collecting all but one last not-quite-dry item (just a few more minutes in the wind) before the rain sweeps in.
mainly, i'm constantly running to pots that are boiling over.
but the laundry makes a better picture.