we thought we'd build
a Viking ship
in summers now long past
big enough for mice to row
across the clear deep water
it would move so slow
with dignity
atop the shining lake
its reflection flaring
with brilliant light
and love not fade away
Monday, October 26, 2015
Saturday, October 24, 2015
a sudden wind
the wind gusts.
everything and everybody is scattered.
a rat, a crab,
a man in a top hat
a couple of ghosts
and a shrub of sage in bloom
land in the same parking lot.
why them -
why have their paths crossed?
what's their story - ?
everything and everybody is scattered.
a rat, a crab,
a man in a top hat
a couple of ghosts
and a shrub of sage in bloom
land in the same parking lot.
why them -
why have their paths crossed?
what's their story - ?
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Zed was the greatest kid in all the school!
Only nobody knew it.
He was shy. During class he stood behind the desks as though they were his fortress, safe away from the other students. At recess, the kids ran around yelling, playing chase, throwing disks and balls, or playing hopscotch or jump rope, or discussing important issues like last night's TV episode or how to build a tree house. Zed stood behind a bench near the playground fence. He watched the other kids with interest, but did not wish to join in.
Instead, he counted how many kids were wearing brown, and how many red. He made maps in his mind about who played where. 'Here is the hopscotch section. Here is the kickball square. Three girls here. Two guys there. Five or six at the basketball hoop.' He was not bored at all.
Frank and Paul were always discussing. Zed liked to watch that. There was a girl, Marcie, who kept glancing toward Zed. He did not like that.
Today was the first cool day of fall, and the playground was happy. Faces were bright and cheerful. Zed found his spot behind the bench, and noted among the kids there were three green sweaters and four pairs of shoes with a Zebra emblem. Leaves were racing in the breeze in circles. Marcie looked at Zed. Zed turned away. His face grew hot. When he looked up, her back was to him, and he sighed with relief. She went up, and stood near Frank and Paul while they chatted. Frank was showing Paul how to soften his new baseball mitt. Marcie watched too. She backed up a little when some of the younger kids ran past them. They were all closer to the bench. Zed now could hear their discussion.
The next day, the same thing happened, only there was just one green sweater. There were two black sweatshirts and one girl was still in sandals, though the weather was even cooler.
Marcie had her back to him. Zed didn't mind that. She was a little closer today, and Frank and Paul came over to chat, ignoring her, but keeping her in their circle. Frank examined Paul's mitt with approval. 'It's getting there,' he said. 'Let me see,' said Marcie, and she examined the mitt with interest. She turned toward Zed, and he turned away.
The next day was similar and then there was a weekend. Zed was nervous and he was a little happy. He was looking forward to Monday, looking forward to recess. But Marcie was not there on Monday nor on Tuesday. Frank and Paul shot hoops for a change. Zed counted the feet that had boots on them, ten, but he wasn't very happy.
Wednesday, Marcie was back. Her eyes were a little puffy. She sneezed. She said to Frank and Paul, 'I'm feeling better.' Her back was facing Zed again. She was wearing boots. She said, 'I'm going to sit down.' She backed all the way to the bench. Plop!
Zed, behind the bench, turned this way, then that. There was no easy escape. Frank and Paul followed Marcie, manfully discussing the lunch menu for the week.
'There's Jello today.' Zed's voice piped up. He studied the menu every week, and knew it by heart.
Frank, Paul, and Marcie looked at him. Zed couldn't believe it was himself that had said something.
'I like Jello. Red's my favorite,' said Paul. There was quiet.
'I like any kind,' said Marcie. 'It'll be good for my throat.'
'Grape is good,' said Frank. They looked at Zed. He smiled a little, and looked down.
'Recess is almost over,' said Frank. Frank, Paul and Marcie turned toward the building. 'You coming with us, Zed?'
'Um. Ahh,' he said. 'Maybe later!'
'OK.'
'Later!'
They walked on. Zed turned away and looked down at his shoes, hiding a big smile.
The end.
###
Only nobody knew it.
He was shy. During class he stood behind the desks as though they were his fortress, safe away from the other students. At recess, the kids ran around yelling, playing chase, throwing disks and balls, or playing hopscotch or jump rope, or discussing important issues like last night's TV episode or how to build a tree house. Zed stood behind a bench near the playground fence. He watched the other kids with interest, but did not wish to join in.
Instead, he counted how many kids were wearing brown, and how many red. He made maps in his mind about who played where. 'Here is the hopscotch section. Here is the kickball square. Three girls here. Two guys there. Five or six at the basketball hoop.' He was not bored at all.
Frank and Paul were always discussing. Zed liked to watch that. There was a girl, Marcie, who kept glancing toward Zed. He did not like that.
Today was the first cool day of fall, and the playground was happy. Faces were bright and cheerful. Zed found his spot behind the bench, and noted among the kids there were three green sweaters and four pairs of shoes with a Zebra emblem. Leaves were racing in the breeze in circles. Marcie looked at Zed. Zed turned away. His face grew hot. When he looked up, her back was to him, and he sighed with relief. She went up, and stood near Frank and Paul while they chatted. Frank was showing Paul how to soften his new baseball mitt. Marcie watched too. She backed up a little when some of the younger kids ran past them. They were all closer to the bench. Zed now could hear their discussion.
The next day, the same thing happened, only there was just one green sweater. There were two black sweatshirts and one girl was still in sandals, though the weather was even cooler.
Marcie had her back to him. Zed didn't mind that. She was a little closer today, and Frank and Paul came over to chat, ignoring her, but keeping her in their circle. Frank examined Paul's mitt with approval. 'It's getting there,' he said. 'Let me see,' said Marcie, and she examined the mitt with interest. She turned toward Zed, and he turned away.
The next day was similar and then there was a weekend. Zed was nervous and he was a little happy. He was looking forward to Monday, looking forward to recess. But Marcie was not there on Monday nor on Tuesday. Frank and Paul shot hoops for a change. Zed counted the feet that had boots on them, ten, but he wasn't very happy.
Wednesday, Marcie was back. Her eyes were a little puffy. She sneezed. She said to Frank and Paul, 'I'm feeling better.' Her back was facing Zed again. She was wearing boots. She said, 'I'm going to sit down.' She backed all the way to the bench. Plop!
Zed, behind the bench, turned this way, then that. There was no easy escape. Frank and Paul followed Marcie, manfully discussing the lunch menu for the week.
'There's Jello today.' Zed's voice piped up. He studied the menu every week, and knew it by heart.
Frank, Paul, and Marcie looked at him. Zed couldn't believe it was himself that had said something.
'I like Jello. Red's my favorite,' said Paul. There was quiet.
'I like any kind,' said Marcie. 'It'll be good for my throat.'
'Grape is good,' said Frank. They looked at Zed. He smiled a little, and looked down.
'Recess is almost over,' said Frank. Frank, Paul and Marcie turned toward the building. 'You coming with us, Zed?'
'Um. Ahh,' he said. 'Maybe later!'
'OK.'
'Later!'
They walked on. Zed turned away and looked down at his shoes, hiding a big smile.
The end.
###
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
blackberies, birds, and bears
Blackberries have so many seeds! Sometimes a seed gets caught between two teeth and the person eating the biscuit and blackberry jam will complain, but mostly we eat our sweet berries and don't worry about the slight inconvenience.
Blackberry bushes when I was a kid grew in our rural spot in south Louisiana like wildfire. We picked berries in the field next door, and we picked berries along the country roads near our house. After the road expansions and more intensive maintenance of the roadside, the blackberries in our area pretty much disappeared.
Years after leaving Louisiana, we had opportunities to pick berries while visiting Bellingham, Washington. There were lengths of undisturbed land along the fences bordering the railroad tracks, area open to the public. Berries glowed in the sunshine, plump, juicy and sweet. We filled our buckets in the morning, and dined on blackberry pie in the evening.
The seeds - they are tiny and plentiful. A bird or bear dines on a ripe berry, and the juicy flesh nourishes the body. The seeds pass through, carried in the creatures' wastes that serve as fertilizer. In uncultivated areas with low human interference, these gardening geniuses' crops grow fast and plentiful.
Given rain and sunshine and fertile (living) soil, berries propagate plentifully, there to nourish and pleasure us humans and the many creatures who share the planet on which we live.
I know a little about raspberries in the wild, something about blueberries and strawberries, but nothing about gooseberries and huckleberries except their names. Salmon berries grew wild along the Washington/Canadian border north of Bellingham. They looked like raspberries, but had a fainter flavor and paler color. We were told bears along the Pacific coast up there enjoyed these. Bears eat a range of foods -berries, fruit, fish, insects, and grubs, to name a few. The last bears I've seen were at Crater Lake National Park in Oregon around 1999. A mother and two cubs gazed at us as we drove along a forest road west of the park.
Blackberry bushes when I was a kid grew in our rural spot in south Louisiana like wildfire. We picked berries in the field next door, and we picked berries along the country roads near our house. After the road expansions and more intensive maintenance of the roadside, the blackberries in our area pretty much disappeared.
Years after leaving Louisiana, we had opportunities to pick berries while visiting Bellingham, Washington. There were lengths of undisturbed land along the fences bordering the railroad tracks, area open to the public. Berries glowed in the sunshine, plump, juicy and sweet. We filled our buckets in the morning, and dined on blackberry pie in the evening.
The seeds - they are tiny and plentiful. A bird or bear dines on a ripe berry, and the juicy flesh nourishes the body. The seeds pass through, carried in the creatures' wastes that serve as fertilizer. In uncultivated areas with low human interference, these gardening geniuses' crops grow fast and plentiful.
Given rain and sunshine and fertile (living) soil, berries propagate plentifully, there to nourish and pleasure us humans and the many creatures who share the planet on which we live.
I know a little about raspberries in the wild, something about blueberries and strawberries, but nothing about gooseberries and huckleberries except their names. Salmon berries grew wild along the Washington/Canadian border north of Bellingham. They looked like raspberries, but had a fainter flavor and paler color. We were told bears along the Pacific coast up there enjoyed these. Bears eat a range of foods -berries, fruit, fish, insects, and grubs, to name a few. The last bears I've seen were at Crater Lake National Park in Oregon around 1999. A mother and two cubs gazed at us as we drove along a forest road west of the park.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
words and shiny things
In yesterday's post, I referred to Orpheus with a flute. However, it is the lyre that he is usually associated with - enchanting sounds with a stringed, harp-like instrument.
Is it magpies or ravens who are known for their attraction to shiny things? Some subset of the corvid birds ... they find a foil gum wrapper here, a bit of glass there, a rock pocked with flecks of mica. Some keep hidden caches of their treasured bright things in tree limbs or in niches of a rooftop.
Some people feel that way about words - we experience them like colorful trinkets and gems. We find a page of an Oxford dictionary to be quite entertaining and peruse it with relish. We tuck shiny words in hidden corners of our minds, and display them here and there with great panache.
We humans and corvids, both plucky and vulnerable, have humorous, sometimes touching, habits.
Is it magpies or ravens who are known for their attraction to shiny things? Some subset of the corvid birds ... they find a foil gum wrapper here, a bit of glass there, a rock pocked with flecks of mica. Some keep hidden caches of their treasured bright things in tree limbs or in niches of a rooftop.
Some people feel that way about words - we experience them like colorful trinkets and gems. We find a page of an Oxford dictionary to be quite entertaining and peruse it with relish. We tuck shiny words in hidden corners of our minds, and display them here and there with great panache.
We humans and corvids, both plucky and vulnerable, have humorous, sometimes touching, habits.
Monday, October 19, 2015
There are two similar tales from the past that I think of now and then. Lot is a figure in the Old Testament of the Bible. He and his wife are escaping a city that is burning. They are not supposed to look back, but his wife can't resist turning for one last glance as they depart. Woof! She freezes and turns into a pillar of salt. Her family must go on without her.
The other is an ancient Greek story about Orpheus, a fellow known for the music he plays on his flute. The melodies entrance the creatures of the forests; friends and strangers; gods and mortals. His beloved wife ends up in the land of Hades (the Greek version of hell). He misses her so much he tries again and again to retrieve her. Finally, he strikes a deal with Hades, who rules the domain below. She may follow her husband out of her prison, but he must not help her along the way or look back at her as ahe follows. Much relieved, the two exit the infernal gates and start along the rugged trail back home. Orpheus leads the way. His wife becomes winded, and it takes more and more effort for her to follow him. When she stumbles on rocks and cries out, he reflexively whirls around to help. Their eyes meet, and at that instant, she shrinks away into a breath of air and disappears.
Neither story is happy with such cruel outcomes, but both cling to mind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)