I See What I See

by Bea Garth, copyright 2008

I see what I see. As a child I discovered
pill bugs ball up when I look under rocks and old rotten wood,
water disappears quickly down holes dug in the ground,
the light drifts in layers on a dusty sunlit day,
water bugs hesitate on the surface of a lazy eddy in the creek
the black poly-wogs with tiny legs swim faster than the rest,
ants carry small bits of rice or other discarded edibles,
cats lie in wait for grasshoppers, their ears at attention.

I found too that I can see many selves
reflected from the bathroom mirror
one after the next staring back at me
if I focus long enough with squinted eyes.

I loved to build forts or sit in the grass amongst the trees
listening to the bees and yellow jackets hum
over the drying prunes
and dream of distant lands—present, past and future.
I’d play make-believe or hide and seek with my friends
or become a general and command my troops to victory
in a mock war with the kids down the next block.

I read myths and fairy tales from around the world
and would regale them to Judy down the street
when we’d walk home from junior high school.

I still notice how the wind blows leaves
and the play of light and shadow.
The earth and the seasons
have always been my friends as are my cats.
I love water even though
I could have drowned out in the settling pond as a child.
I still am fascinated with water-bugs
with their long legs gliding on the surface
reflecting themselves in a kind of double helix
as I look up at them when I am submerged underwater.

I still see what I see
even though I know my mind can play tricks
with what is real or not
and I have found this is more than just OK
since I learned long ago
it’s a gift like playing and swimming
to be free to both observe and really imagine.

Note: the painting to the above right
is entitled "The Fertile Sea" by Bea Garth, copyright 2007