I don't mind, if it's me you need to turn to
Orange lately has been a lot about vibrancy.
I'm not a fire creature. I'm drawn to the deep rich pallets of blues and greens and browns and those related to or near them naturally, so every time I pass Lord Orange's altar I'm struck with bright vibrancy and a little nervous awe. It's not the same truly high-strung, jumping, skittish I was with Lady Red for so long. But it's there, because they connect. Because of the colors, maybe?
But I am working with the sensation instead either against it or around it. Where Lady Red was everywhere out there, I remind myself consistently Lord Orange still has that side of being entirely down to earth, best friend laying on your bed, pelting you lightly with acorns way of reminding you you're taking everything, especially him or yourself, too seriously.
I spend a lot of time trying to picture him that way when we talk.
A boy lolling on my bed, with beautiful orange eyes, and faintly stained shirt.
And, almost always, with this sort of goofy, knowing grin, that evades all age.
~*~
Yesterday at the fruit market there was a sale on baskets of luscious apricots in this luscious orange-yellow glow so I picked up two baskets and I keep smiling every time I open the fridge and see them there, or a second half, like a cradle moon against the dark of my deep blue blanket, is still waiting for me to eat it.
It's a lovely, sweet, meditation on him every time.
I'm not a fire creature. I'm drawn to the deep rich pallets of blues and greens and browns and those related to or near them naturally, so every time I pass Lord Orange's altar I'm struck with bright vibrancy and a little nervous awe. It's not the same truly high-strung, jumping, skittish I was with Lady Red for so long. But it's there, because they connect. Because of the colors, maybe?
But I am working with the sensation instead either against it or around it. Where Lady Red was everywhere out there, I remind myself consistently Lord Orange still has that side of being entirely down to earth, best friend laying on your bed, pelting you lightly with acorns way of reminding you you're taking everything, especially him or yourself, too seriously.
I spend a lot of time trying to picture him that way when we talk.
A boy lolling on my bed, with beautiful orange eyes, and faintly stained shirt.
And, almost always, with this sort of goofy, knowing grin, that evades all age.
~*~
Yesterday at the fruit market there was a sale on baskets of luscious apricots in this luscious orange-yellow glow so I picked up two baskets and I keep smiling every time I open the fridge and see them there, or a second half, like a cradle moon against the dark of my deep blue blanket, is still waiting for me to eat it.
It's a lovely, sweet, meditation on him every time.