Monera Mason is a mischief-maker.  Her work includes: starting questionable cults with notorious software gurus, writing abstract fiction, catalyzing shenanigans which she deploys on unsuspecting bystanders in the City of Neon. 

Signed Days

I started talking to the birds in my backyard last week. I figured if anything unexpected was going to ever happen in the realm of talking creatures it wasn't going happening by me remaining silent.

Today a hummingbird flew inches from my face, hovering for what felt longer than a few seconds before making a wide loop around the pool and landing on the branch behind me. The tongue of such a stately bird is quite ridiculous in person--long curled vine darting in and out of its outsized beak.

A minute later a mockingbird flew to the seat near me, then buzzed behind me onto the wall and hopped along that wall and halfway across its perpendicular. His tail was flitting up and down in a geometric splay of grey and white!!! Such a drastic display of birdly bobbing left me in a fit of giggles.

The sky, a gloruis splay of white bubbly clouds, created by ebullient scenic painters. Wind kisses rounded out natures affair.

Reading God's signature on my days is a simple affair with a practiced hand at signs and symbols.

I am sure we could say these are all the random occurrences of a world cold to our existence. We search for signs in our need to make meaning.

Then again I got the birthday gift I was hoping for. A chance to do good in the world, time to finish school, space to work on a novel, teens growing into young women, and a daughter who is sure she is a mericorn.

I, after all the storms, still have a heart full to bursting. In love with the world in all its magical presence.