Category Archives: Ladybug

All Ladybug drafts

The ones tagged HL are highlighted in my finder for some reason; I’m thinking it was because they are either landmarks or starting points for the next revision.

I need help in pinning down a narrative mode and a good flow.

A new direction19*

#
I watch a shocked world attempt to revive from winter. The wet brown scrub grass has somehow managed to hang on through a long winter.

A speck dotters through the haze. It’s buffetted about like a prop plane from an old movie daring to stay aloft. It momentarily shoots up and staggers back. It grows larger now and against the pastel sky I can tell it’s red color.

—
A ladybug flies out of the pastel spring sky and lands on my knee. She excitedly talks of fresh greens and the sweetness of aphids. She is distressed by the peculair angle of the sky.

—
#

A ladybug flies out of the pastel spring sky and lands on my knee.

She spins in circles, like a Sufi lost in meditation.

I grin and bop my head to her rhythm.

At some point I notice she is staring at me.

I shake my head, I had no idea that she had stopped dancing

I blink and try to drop back into the social contract.

I tilt my head and attempt to at least say something.

She beats vivid red wing covers at me.

I am sorry that it takes me so long to adjust.

She forgives me with a curtsy,

And crawls through my thick hair

Circles back around /my knee/.

She is unnerved by the distorted shadows

By the peculair angle of the sun.

But she let’s it rest, what hubris

it would be for the newly emerged

to cast such judgments.

Maybe it’s always like this.

She’s happy to be here,

excited about the smell of dirt,

the promise of the sweetness sweet of aphids.

She praises the heat and thawing.

//You join in her rejoicing of summer. She is excited about the smell of dirt, the sweetness of aphids. She praises the heat and thawing.//

//there’s a
lady bug sitting on your knee. It’s a red one. A dark red ladybug from childhood‚Äî
back when ladybugs were vivid and bold. She opens her wing covers and talks about summer and the smell of dirt, about heat and thawing. She jumps into a current and is swept along.
//

//
and suddenly there’s a ladybug. A red one. A dark red ladybug from childhood–when ladybugs were still vivid and bold. She opens her wing covers and spins in a circle. You join in her rejoicing of summer. She is excited about the smell of dirt, the sweetness of aphids. She praises the heat and thawing, and leaps into a current and is swep aloft.
//

ladybug new 3 past tense18

I laid under a tree and watched a shocked world try to revive from winter. I half gazed at the scrubby grass that had, somehow, managed to hang on through the long winter.

A speck doddered along through the haze. It reminded me of an old movie where a single engine prop plane, somehow, ran out of fuel was buffeted about. It shoot up a little and staggered back. The speck grew larger and I could clearly see it’s red against the pastle sky.

An agitated ladybug landed on my knee. She spun in circles–dancing like a Sufi in meditation. I grinned and bopped my head to her rhythm.

Before long I noticed she was starring at me. I shook my head–I had no idea when she stopped dancing. I blinked and tried to drop back into the social contract. I tilted my head…she impatiently beat her wings at me.

I’m sorry that it takes me so long to adjust.

She forgave me with a curtsy. She crawled through my thick hair and circled back around. She is put off by the distorted shadows…something about the angle. But she let it rest–she’d only just emerged perhaps it’s always like that at first. I joined in with her rejoicing of summer. We were excited by the smell of dirt and the promise of sweetness of aphids. We praised the heat and thawing.

In turn I told her my story. How I woke up unnerved buy something strange that I couldn’t quit reach…and suddenly I notice there is light and warmth. I excitedly…

ladybug new 317

I’m laying under a tree watching the world try to revive from winter. I’m half gazing at the scrubby grass that has, somehow, managed to hang on this long.

In the haze where fog meets sky a spec is dottering along. It reminds me of old movies where single engine prop planes would, somehow, run out of fuel and be buffeted around. They always shoot up a little and stagger back. The dottering spec is growing larger now. It’s clearly red against the pastel sky.

An :agitated (how so, describe): ladybug lands on my kneed. She spins–dancing like a Sufi in meditation. I’m grinning and boping my head to her rhythm.

Before long I notice she is starring at me. I shake my head, I have no idea when she stopped dancing. I blink and try to drop back into the social contract. I tilt my head… She gets impatient and starts beating her wing covers in frustration/protest. I’m sorry that it takes me so long to adjust. I’m sorry that I get swept away in romantic notions and daydreams.

“Oh. Hey. I like watching you dance. Wonderful day, isn’t it?

She forgives me with a curtsy. She crawls through my thick hair and circles back around. She is unnerved put off by the skewness distorted angle of the shadows, but let’s it rest–she’s only just emerged, maybe it’s always like that at first. I join in her rejoicing of summer. We’re excited by the smell of dirt and the promise of the sweetness of aphids. We praise the heat and thawing.

Time passes

That morning I was rudely and unwillingly woken.

ladybug new 216

I’m reclaining against a tree watching the world try to mometery revive itself out of this winter. I’m half gazing at the scrubby grass that has, somehow, managed to hang on this long. In the haze where fog meets sky a spec is dottering along. It reminds me of old movies where single engine prop planes would, somehow, run out of fuel and be buffeted around. They always shoot up a little and stagger back. The dottering spec is growing larger now. It’s clearly red against the pastel sky.

An :agitated (how so, describe): ladybug lands on my kneed. She spins–dancing like a Sufi in meditation. I’m grinning and boping my head to her rhythm.

Before long I notice she is starring at me. I shake my head, I have no idea when she stopped dancing. I blink and try to drop back into the social contract. I tilt my head… She gets impatient and starts beating her wing covers in frustration. I’m sorry that it takes me so long to adjust. I’m sorry that I get swept away in romantic notions and daydreams.

“Oh. Hey. I like watching you dance. Wonderful day, isn’t it?

She forgives me with a curtsy. She crawls through my thick hair and circles back around. She is unnerved put off by the skewness distorted angle of the shadows, but let’s it rest–she’s only just emerged, maybe it’s always like that at first. I join in her rejoicing of summer. Excited by the smell of dirt and the promise of the sweetness of aphids. We praise the heat and thawing.

ladybug new 115

I’m reclaining against a tree watching the world try to mometery revive itself out of this winter. I’m half gazing at the scrubby grass that has, somehow, managed to hang on this long. And out of the haze a spec is dottering along. It reminds me of of old movies where single engine prop planes would, somehow, run out of fuel and be buffeted around. They always shoot up a little and back down. The dottering spec is growing larger now. It’s clearly red against the pastel sky.

An :agitated (how so, describe): ladybug lands on my kneed. She spins–dancing like a Sufi in meditation. I’m grinning and boping my head to her rhythm. Presently I notice that she is starring at me. I shake my head, I had no idea when she stopped meditating. I blink and try to drop back into the social contract. I tilt my head… She gets impatient and starts beating her wing covers. I’m sorry that it takes me so long to adjust. I’m sorry that I get swept away in romantic notions and daydreams.

“Oh. Hey. I like watching you dance. Wonderful day, isn’t it?

Ladybug 214*

an agitated ladybug lands on your knee. she spins and dances like a sufi in meditation. she pauses and stares at you. she gets impatient and beats her wing-covers. it takes several beats to break you out of your trance.

“oh, hello. sorry, i was greatly enjoying your dance. it’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?”

she doesn’t speak exactly but somehow her thoughts seep in. she’s amazed to be here. she’s happy but isn’t questioning it—well, too much.

You join in her rejoicing of summer. She is excited about the smell of dirt, the sweetness of aphids. She praises the heat and thawing.

“I know what you mean,” you say. And you tell her about your day. About how

You were rudely and unwillingly woken up this morning. It was quite alarming. There was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. There were these things floating all around. You sat up in bed and huddled in the corner pulling the blankets up around you. The floating thing were streaked with light. It slowly became clear. The sun was out!

You leap up and pull on your summer clothes. You rush outside, banging your toes and shins on tables and chairs. You yank open the front door and the sun hits you in the eyes. You’re blind and stunned and stumble out into an explosion of colors and heat. You’re awed and relieved to be alive.

You head to the park and watch the sky brighten. A pale yellow swatch nibbles away the grey. Wisps of clouds are still lingering around but, little by little, they break up and fade into pale blue.

Rustling leaves dance overhead. A gradient of heat and cold swirls over your skin. You feel the formless shadows take shape and mingle and swarm, and fade back into formlessness.

The dirt is warm and moist under your hands. You dig at small roots and you grind rough pebbles into your fingertips. The smell of a living earth is reminiscent of another time…

Where sheep graze on the next hill over The gauzy yellow shape that sways like the grass must be the shepherd. There are puffy whit splotches wandering through high grass. You wait for them to float away, but somehow they stay close to the ground.

And the grass tickles the back of your knees. You brush it away and suddenly there’s a dark red ladybug from childhood when all ladybugs were still vivid and bold.

With that the ladybug leaps into a current and is swept aloft and away.

ladybug 113

an agitated ladybug lands on your knee. she spins and dances like a sufi in meditation. she pauses and stares at you. she gets impatient and beats her wing-covers at you. it takes several beats to break you out of your trance.

“oh, hello. sorry, i was greatly enjoying watching you dance. it’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?”

she doesn’t speak exactly but somehow her thoughts seep in. she’s amazed to be here. she’s happy but isn’t questioning it—well, too much.

“I know what you mean,” you say. And you tell her about your day.

I was rudely and unwillingly woken up this morning. It was quite alarming. There was something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. There were these things floating all around me. I sit up in bed and huddle in the corner pulling the blankets up around my chin. The floating thing were streaked with light. It slowly come to me. The sun is out!

I leap up and pull on my summer clothes. I rush outside, banging my toes and shins on tables and chairs. I yank the front door open and the sun hits me in the eyes. I’m blind and stunned and stumble out into an explosion of colors and heat. I’m alive.

I head to the park and watch the sky brighten. The grey has been replaced by a pale yellow swatch. Wisps of clouds are still lingering around; little by little they break up and fade into pale blue.

last summer sent11*

It’s a warm spring day, the first one in months.

You’re so excited that you throw on your summer clothes and run outside as fast as you can.

The sun hits you in the eyes and you’re stunned and you stumble off the porch.
You right yourself on the bottom step and gingerly step off.
You hold a hand over your eyes. You lean back. And squint at the sun.

The sun is out, its heat washes over you.

You’re sitting under a tree. You watch the sky brighten. There’s a pale yellow swatch where the grey usually is.
There are wisps of clouds lingering about. Little by little they break and fade.

The tree’s rustling leaves cast an ever changing dance overhead. You feel formless shadows take shape. As they come into being they become aware of each other. Excited that they are not alone they swarm. They mingle. They grow aquainted. And fade back into the formless.

It is hot and you are reclining in the shade.

Your fingers brush through the scrub and dirt. You dig at small and grind rough pebbles into your finger tips. You sift moist soil through your fingers. The smell of living earth takes you back to simpler times. [takes you back to simpler times -or- takes you to a simpler time?]

Sheep are grazing on the next hill over. The herder looks happy. There’s something in that gauzy shape,
the way it sway with the wind…
Yeah, he must be happy.

The shaggy grass tickles behind your knees. You brush it away and there’s a
lady bug sitting on your knee. It’s a red one. A dark red ladybug from childhood—
back when ladybugs were vivid and bold. She opens her wing covers and talks about summer and the smell of dirt, about heat and thawing. She jumps into a current and is swept along.

You are in the shade watching ladybugs dance in sunlight.

Summer girl 710*

You are unwillingly pulled out of a dead slumber by something incomprehensible. Slowly opening eyes puzzle over floating things streaked with light. It’s disturbing and strange. Alarmed, you set up in bed and try to make sense of it.

The sun is out!

You throw on summer clothes and rush outside. The sun hits your eyes. Stunned, you stumble off the pourch. Shadded eyes squint at the sun.

Heat washes over you!

You sit under a tree and watch the sky brighten. There’s a pale yellow swatch where the grey usually is. Wisps of clouds are still lingering about; little by little they break and fade.

Rustling leaves cast a dance overhead. Heat and cold swirl over your skin. You feel formless shadows take shape and become aware. They swarm and mingle. They grow aquainted, and fade back into the formless.

It is hot and you are reclining in the shade!

You brush through scrub and dirt. You dig at small roots. You grind rough pebbles into moist soil. The smell of living earth is reminicent of another time.

Sheep graze on the next hill over. A gauzy yellow shape sways with the wind. It is surrounded by puffs of white that, for the most part, stay anchored to the ground.

It is a weightless summer day and sheep are bubbling away!

Shaggy grass tickles your knees. You brush it away and suddenly there’s a ladybug. A red one. A dark red ladybug from childhood–when ladybugs were still vivid and bold. She opens her wing covers and spins in a circle. You join in her rejoicing of summer. She is excited about the smell of dirt, the sweetness of aphids. She praises the heat and thawing, and leaps into a current and is swep aloft.

You are in the shade watching ladybugs dance in sunlight!