Category: Ladybug

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 direction

#
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 tense

old (#18)

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 3

old (#17)

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 2

old (#16)

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 1

old (#15)

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?