Juggling in January

Juggling in January

My only audience members are noisy and enthusiastic
All dressed in black, they caw at me from the tall elms
I stay on the soft moist grass
A soft place to drop my red crystal ball
(It’s really acrylic but in my fantasy it is crystal).
I’m not quite mesmerizing
As I fumble it time and time again
Sometimes dropping it where it lands with a juicy plop on the wet grass.
But just often enough I see a little progress to keep me going
Like a gambler addicted to poker
I’m sure the next time will go smoother.

I switch to three shiny pins
There I find a little more comfort
And old safe trick that I know well
I put them through their paces like trained ponies in a circus
I try not to dwell on the tricks I’m not flexible enough to do anymore

I spot a bee trying to crawl into my red soda can
It gets annoyed when I try to cover the can with my water bottle
I note that there is plenty of flat concrete for unicycle riding
Maybe someday I’ll get another one-wheeled wonder
I move into the sun
Away from the bee

I spot two beautiful orange trees and flashback to my college days
When I used to juggle oranges outside the cafeteria with other jugglers
Until my hands were soaked with orange juice and we were all laughing like maniacs.

The bee is gone
I peer carefully into the can to make sure
I take a sip and then I open a granola bar
The bee lands on the can
I quickly cover it with the water bottle
But I don’t quite get it lined up right, leaving a bee sized opening into the can
The bee uses it as a door and crawls in
I wait
The bee doesn’t come out
I peek in
I see the bee awash in the soda
I slowly pour the soda onto the ground
I set the can sideways on the brick wall
The disgruntled bee crawls out
It parks on the can to dry its wings
I decide its time to go home so I start to pack my equipment up
I reach to grab the little white box for the contact juggling ball
Just in time I see the bee is sitting on the box
Cleaning the sticky soda off its wings
I swish it away one last time; quickly stuff everything into my purple gear bag
And hot foot it to my truck before the bee decides to come home with me.

Rules of the Road

I'm not sure when I wrote this. I found it in a box of old papers just now:

Rules of the Road

Feed your inner child
Wear something that doesn't match
Be all you are today
Dance
Invent your own holiday
Play
Give yourself an award
Sooth yourself
Dress like royalty
Sing yourself to sleep
Record your poetry
Sleep with a crystal in your hand
Change jewelry
Polish your knick-knacks
Run to the mailbox and back
Be whole
Read nursery rhymes
Send an unbirthday gift
Dance by candlelight
Write a play
Spin till you are dizzy
Wear ribbons or flowers in your hair