When the working day is done

The weekend was spent painting, dancing, creating and of course drinking.  I'm proud to say my best friends' wife, who just so happens to be a fearie, has landed the led light design gig on the new ferris wheel on Elliot Bay for the fourth.  I was sucked into the program of the wheel for a long time.  Dancing at Soul Night was absolutely what I needed.  We were soaked when we left.  I ran through the sprinklers and woke up in their California King sized bed in my panties.  Those kids are so fun.  I just wish I could get away from everything for a season.  My love in the Great North wants me to join her in working the blueberry harvest.  I really wish I could.  I'd love nothing better than to just go work on a farm with my best friend and give my sweat, skin and song to the Earth.  The city is getting to me.  We self medicate to tolerate the insideous nastiness of this way of life.  Stories and songs are realized here.  There's so much beauty here that I see everyday, but the soil calls me.  I crave cultivation, community, and rest.  The party never ends it seems. My talents are not being wasted, but my potential has not been fully realized here. I see them watch me watch them watching me. I stuffed my pockets with rose petals.  I pulled the heads off of the ones that surround the park.  They were going to fall off any minute. I was careful to only take the ones that gave with ease. Like fruit. Like me.   I dream of having my own garden.  I dream of being free and loved. Either I have a gaurdian angel, or it's a severe stroke of luck that I haven't been approached at either swing set.  I'm relieved that my audience leaves me be. Several people came out and shot off fireworks.  It was very climactic for me because I was really into my full swing mode and had started launching rose petals into the air while touching the tree with my toes.