My Window Weeds Love Her Black Weather

It was a warm and clear Sunday morning. A crow cawed 4 times. A dog’s bark reverberated. A seagull circled. Traffic whooshed. Ice lake and lagoon didn’t exist anymore. Strain was releasing its grasp as I became more deeply relaxed. The gravel was rich and dark grey. Clumps of black tar rested. Blue sky was bright and shiny. I’m in love with Anna in this.

It was a gorgeous beautiful morning for a word painting picture of love. Crows huddled for caws. I opened more to calm down. A claw within me was letting go. From what I don’t know. But I was feeling the effect of it. I felt well, alive and awake. I started my morning watching Bob Dylan on TV -a documentary on his musical spiritual quest. My heartthrob’s mountain of love was clear and brown, with dark fur trees scattered around. Trees were well-lit and well shadowed. Lovebirds chirped a beautiful stream as water went gushing through a vent. The roof tundra was virtually gone. It was a crystalline mound in the corner. Burbling lovebirds cavorted. 3 black birds sped off on a journey. I’m in love with Anna in this.

A crow cawed 13 times, adding 4 more as she went. Sound was quite engaging. Multiple bird songs made a looped reel composition. 2 lovebirds adhered to a tree for an instant before taking off at lightning speed. Crow voices bounced off each other’s caws, with clipped bursts of 4s and 5s. A small plane burbled overhead. The traffic choir began, with throaty whisper breathing. Sound perculated with variety. It felt like the first day of spring. I’m in love with Anna in this.

Reflecting on my spiritual journey, my father was a Lutheran. But he really was a hedonist. My mother converted to Mormonism when I was 12 years old. My father opposed it, saying that it was a cult. I left the church when I was 21 after reading Krishnamurti and marrying a Jewish woman. Her mother was a concentration camp survivor. My BA in religious studies at University gave me a more scholarly and broad-minded approach. A multi-faith dialogue and embrace of the world’s religions and mysticism is necessary for these troubled times. Church bells rang at 10:47. A fly buzzed around my head. Trees were still. There was no wind. I craved for her skin and her scent. The sky was delicate blue tinted glass. I’m deeply in love with Anna in this.

My impossible zoo loves her monster insects. My dangerous sports loves her martial arts wrestling clothes. My window weeds love her black weather. My war victim loves her safe fortress. My difficult stumble down the steep dirt road loves her counter-balance hold. My strength specification loves her overwhelming overload. My corrupt political dictator’s capture loves her black government resistance spies. My defending army soldiers love her barbed wire battle lines. My unruly mess loves her piles of paperwork. My sensation function loves her secure Earth. My bad germs love her safe dirt. I love her lunar black bible verse from my Egyptian box “At the voice of thy cry; when he shall hear it, he will answer thee.” -Isaiah 30:19. I love Anna Dirksen.

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