You never notice it, but when spring water streams bustling rapidly over smooth granite rock beds, it takes along tiny grains.
Particles for what- memories?
Totems of consequence like creation,
a path of breadcrumbs, or
marking passage of journey downstream ?
Maybe a timestamp in the continuum of evolution?
❦
There was discernment, at that particular time, that certain women were judged deficient as ladies,
when publicly appearing at grocery stores with their hair done up in curlers .
Enter Aunt Britta , like the rushing stream, keeping her hands bustling
over the grocery tomato bin,
almost like anointing healing blessings upon each of the reposing fruits-
finding this one too ripe, that one too green, and practically none as nice as last years .
All this for sole benefit of only one other woman fronting the bin-
a flotsam waif presenting in a faded house dress , and without applied cosmetic face.
She watches Britta like a rock in the stream.
Intently.
The woman,
(seemingly) unnoticed by Britta,
perhaps being of such small account to her, if even any at all in any plan of things;
or on second thought ,more, perhaps, because of her hair done up in curlers,
moves on, casually taking but one smallish tomato-
While Britta, no longer with her disdained unworthy audience,
also quickly picks up a tomato in afterthought,
and coddles it with her as she drifts away downstream with other tasks.
❦
The tomato display appears as if exactly the same as before,
but of, course, it has changed,
evolved,
the incidence of hair curlers causing change to the lie of things thereafter,
forever.
Could the ripple of this mote become a monument downstream?
We can note that curlers rarely appear at Grocery stores these days,
and all agree tomatoes don’t taste nearly as good now.
-Jerry Wendt 2020
