Category: Themes

White Carnations, Perception, and the World as it Is

Stick a white carnation in water mixed with some blue food coloring, and, slowly, the tips of its petals will take on a blue tinge. Eventually, the whole flower will start to take on a blue hue as the flower continues to drink that colorful water.

It’s transpiration or whatever (I did have to Google that), combined with what dye does by definition.

Today, thinking about flowers and dye and petal tips and tinges and hues, I began to wonder how different life would be if water had a color rather than being clear, like pure H2O being rose-colored rather than colorless. With water being the building block of life on Earth, as well as a component of many nonliving things, how would things change?

Very likely that rose-colored water would give all of these things a rose-colored tint. You and I would be slightly pinker. Those white carnations would start off as a tiny bit reddish.

Photo by Samer Daboul on Pexels.com

Even the phrase rose-colored would take on a slightly different meaning. And because those roses would have this blush undertone in addition to any extra pigment they already have, it’s likely that “rose-colored” wouldn’t even be an apt name for the color of that water anymore.

The wildest part is that rose-colored water and a rose-colored world would be our normal. Most things would have a rosy hue from the day we were born to the day we die.

Some day, it would dawn on someone in this alternate reality that the world would be different if water were a different color. They might imagine life with pale green water. Maybe, if they were feeling extra existential, they might wonder how people would perceive everything if water were clear.

I wonder what it would be like to wonder that.

Humidity

It’s a hot midwestern day,

though I thought the rain would cool it off.

I work in a warehouse,

bay door open,

humidity weaving its way toward the back

where my station stands.

I sweat.

Will I miss this heat come winter

when I do my arrangements in a coat and gloves?

I don’t remember from last year.

I didn’t work here the year before that.

This winter, I will find out.

Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash

Stuck

Two feet in two boots

sink in the muddy ground.

One comes loose with a loud

suction-y pop,

and globules of muck go flying.

To free one foot, the other

must press down,

forcing itself deeper into the

greedy, wet earth.

The freed foot strides forward

while the other remains where it was,

left behind,

more stuck than ever.

Then weight shifts onto the front foot,

as the other ankle wriggles.

The back leg strains to lift the foot, the boot,

to dislodge both

and continue the journey ever onward.

Photo by Athena

The Pet and the Feathered Thing

Low to the ground, the cat creeps
Toward the window,
Stalking.

Outside, the bird pecks at seed,
Its prey eyes darting,
Untrusting.

The golden-furred pet inches ever closer,
Operating on instinct,
Eager.

Their eyes meet for a single beat.
The cat’s body thuds against the glass.

Safe as ever, the feathered thing takes flight.

featured photo by Lina Kivaka via Pexels

My Words Might Fail

One day, when the moon is in the sky, I will reach out to touch it. I might hope for an embrace that it cannot reciprocate. I might stumble in its light. I might weep. I might struggle to move that insurmountable rock. I might try to replace it with other rock. I might lean against craggy walls, learning what every cliff face looks like from the bottom. I might hurt.

One day, when the sun is in the sky, I will tap my fingers on the dining table. The wood might maintain my prints. It might not. I might stare longingly out the window. My gaze might race to meet the horizon faster than my legs could ever run. I might lie down on the floor. I might rest. I might face my greatest fears. I’m not sure I yet know what those are.

One day, when the moon is in the sky, I might not be there to see it.

featured photo by Dids via Pexels

All My Links