Once Again, I Dreamt of Water

To Be Released

Caged birds accept each other but flight is what they long for.

—Tennessee Williams

DAVEY ANGEL: Arrays of cool water splatter on leaves. I sprinkle the roots and it's as if I am the rose - I start feeling refreshed. The soil at the bottom of the garden seems to squirm beneath the water's weight, like a caterpillar in its cocoon being released into its wings. I'm planting pink and white roses for Anna in my garden. I am also putting up a gazebo where I will read my poetry and kiss her. I water the roses, observing their differently shaped petals. My mom taught me how to plant. Moments like this in the garden I remember the butterflies I could never catch; Mom prohibited it, but I'd revel in their fancy wings and their tantalizing flights. Ironically, my Mom once caught a live grasshopper for me - she brought it in a tiny wooden cage decorated by an ornate hand-painted forest. My kidnapped grasshopper survived an entire day. By the end of the day the poor creature had become droopy and frail — I remember it laying suddenly on its side; and only then did I try setting it free. Coming back to observe, it was then that I realized the sting and sadness of true pain: oncoming death! The grasshopper had been invaded by an army of red hungry ants. I ran for the hose, and warm water instead of cool washed most of the dreaded ants away, but my grasshopper friend died soon despite my effort. It was too late to appreciate this little, blessed leaper from God. Sorry, Mother Nature, for what I did to your son! From that moment on, I vowed to Mother Earth and made a promise to God and my mom: I will never catch a grasshopper again or any living created being walking, crawling, swimming or flying on the face of our blue planet.