The Starfish Leaf

B has this little green leaf that has gotten stuck to his living room window on the outside. Rain and winds have plastered it right in the middle of the pane of glass, and it's been there for several days. Last night we were sitting in his two chairs, and he pointed out the leaf and then at this lovely shadow it made on the ceiling. This morning, when I awoke and the sky was this hazy purple right before the sun(rain)rise, I paused for several moments and admired the leaf, its ceiling shadow, its shadow on the wall next to the giant framed map, its half-shadow right above the mirror, cut in half by the frame. I was filled with this feeling of peace and wonder, which had a lot to do with the leaf and a lot to do with B and I, our conversations, our connections. I'd told him the leaf looked like a starfish, and as some of you know I hold a special place in my heart for starfish. I can't even tell you why, except they hold magic and mystery for me, and if Life is a figurative Ocean, then I relate more to starfish than anything else. (Well, let's face it, my gay boy side that worships Madonna really wants to be a mermaid, but that's a different story.)

I felt a tangible energy in the air this morning. It sifted over me, gently.