An afternoon

HELLO!  GOODBYE?

 

The mirror-like lake is still. There isn't a breeze, a ripple. I hug my knees as I day-dream , see swash buckling pirates , blood flowing, heads rolling into the pristine water. I give myself a talking to, 'turn the record over! Relax.' A butterfly, it's black wings interlaced with gold threads alights on the table of my legs. I don't move an inch, inhale gently and give this lovely gift a chance to get to know me.

 

It's wings flutter a little as it rises and circles my head. I feel it touch down, then stop, on my ear. I can't see it, am afraid any motion,  sound
I make, will leave me alone again. Holding steady, I concentrate on the stillness of the lake. Can the red water be the reflection of the burning sun or is it blood from the bits of pirate bodies? That dreadful thought frightens me. My butterfly feels it and flies away. It makes me feel sad.

 

The sun is burning thru my polo shirt. I lower my knees and make my way through yellow striated rocks, flat, marbled with intricate black and brown veins that border the lake. A perfect seat calls my name.
I lie here awhile, listen to the birds, watch the sun turn the tiny lake ripples into silver bud kisses.

 

There isn't a honking horn within miles of my refuge, no screaming ambulances, sirens, spoil my solitude. My cell phone is shut off. Errol Flynn jumps down from the yardarm and bellows, 'Hark. The enemy sails too close. Man the cannons!' I am into my reverie, have left the seclusion and peace I find here. It is always the same, my two worlds collide and I am whole. A cannon ball rips through the main mast. The sails crumble, catch fire. The ship is engulfed in flames. As it sinks into the ocean, Errol waves to me and drowns.

 

I sit up and take a long drink of cold lemonade from my thermos, the one with Errol on it. I am refreshed and dismiss the pictures that come and go in my mind. Nobody knows where I am. Nobody cares. The sun tells me it is 3 in the afternoon and my day is ending. It's almost time to re-enter the hub bub world. I linger on the cooling rock and watch shadows begin to fall.

 

Something light touches my hair. It cannot be a leaf. It flutters and lands with a gossamer flair on my naked shoulder. 'My god,' I say to the sky 'this has to be the very same black butterfly that kissed me this morning.' Without flying away, it sits and flutters and flutters those see-thru wings of his. Another butterfly joins in, settles on my arm. This one's wings are pale green. Dark green veins go in all directions. I thrust out my arms towards the lake and the two friends fly away.

 

I wave goodbye, put on my polo shirt and hit the road for home.