Black Iris (Shining)

I wasn’t sure where exactly I wanted to go. There was the spot where I had seen Aleta, but there was so much new writing territory to be claimed as well. But, there was always the chance I would see Aleta if I returned to the spot. Would she read the poem? Would she like it? She seemed more interested in the poetry than she did anything else that went on during our momentary meeting.

I decided to head back to the spot, reading my poem in the process. There were some things I had thought about changing, but frankly, you can’t delete or erase berry juice on bark without ruining the etching surface. It would bleed out across the rest of it, and it would just be very messy.

I arrive at the tree; no one seems to be there; that’s my cue to climb. I begin climbing, finding the right branches to hold my weight, before nestling myself in somewhere near the top.

I swung my leg around on the bench to get a better look, and sure enough, there was Aleta standing there looking up with her black eyes. Was she looking for me? Was this a spot she normally came to?

“Hey Aleta.”

I assumed she couldn’t climb like I could, or at least wouldn’t want to. I made my way down the branches, stepping on a few, and swinging from others. I landed softly with my pack slung over my shoulder. I remember back to our meeting yesterday, she said she hadn’t come around often. That meant she must have a new reason to come around, had more happened since I left?

“How are you?”

“Not bad.” I didn’t really know how to extend my response. I consider myself a master of words, but not necessarily a master of conversation. I’ve always had a better time communicating to a pen and paper than to a live person.

“I’ve just been writing.” I wasn’t sure if she wanted to read it or not, but I decided to take the chance anyway.

I reached into my pack and pulled out the bark with the poem on it. I read it over just to make sure it was the right one; Also, making sure it didn’t look stupid was necessary too.

“Really?”

I raised my eyebrows, but I held back the smile that seemed to begin to creep out onto my face. She wanted to read my poem. I wasn’t sure why, but I could finally share my work with someone. On the other hand…she could hate the poem, she could dislike what was written about her…or she could just not understand it. Either way, there wasn’t much room to go back now.

“Did you want to read it?” I held the poem out to her after looking it over one more time.“I’m sure it could be better…but, here.”

It was odd, in all my years of writing; I never once had anyone read my poems. I had definitely not had the subject of my poem read one. As hard as it was to follow her eyes, I could tell she was re-reading a few lines to help understand it. That made me glad that my poetry was not so simple. She let out a breath towards the end, but I wasn’t sure why.

“I like it, thanks.”

It was a good enough reaction for me. I was half expecting her to throw it at my face and scream. She let out a brief smile, very small, and I let one out on my own.

“You can keep it if you’d like.” I wasn’t sure she would want to, but there’s no reason not to ask.