25 March 2020. Deer with Plum Branch.
The word for today--frescor. Popping up on the screen in the morning--I always forget they'll be there. Freshness. A reminder. Chosen by some anonymous host from the dictionary world, to educate. Or entertain. Or spread around at least. But there's too much spreading around--the tiny invisible not-quite-alive bits of matter that can carry us all away... The song came before, of course. They always do. Rastaman Chant. A dream of Zion...
One bright morning, when my work is over
Man will fly away home...
Is it better that Zion remain a dream? Perhaps. Wrote to Duffy, the neighbor, "my salvation home," not knowing quite what I meant. Always best--when the meaning comes before the sense. Describing a cherished garden in San Diego. Then C told me, just last night, Adam and Gen--the neighbors there--have it. We knew instantly what that meant. (Gen returning a week ago on a flight from Spain... )
But in the next moment? What feelings? A weight, just beginning--a new layer in the story...
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The deer's back legs are remarkably strong. No wonder they can leap as they do. To get this right you'd have to go running in a field...
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Afterwards she read to me, from Out of Africa. Our beautiful time. The ornery old Dane who lived his last months on the farm. Dusk, the Scottish Deer Hound. Lulu, the baby forest antelope. And all the beautiful descriptions of Kamante. His letter, much after. "We all know you remember us..."
Which in Africa means, of course, "We all remember you...
