November 28, 2009 – 12:47 pm
Billions of galaxies, and ours only one.
Each harboring untold numbers of planets, and
stars, and other mystic celestial creations.
The wonderment of it all can only be imagined.
Our tiny rock, powered by a relatively small sun.
We share it with innumerable insects, reptiles,
animals of all sorts, sea life, and fowl.
We’re the intelligent ones, or so it’s been said,
though perhaps that’s imagined also. We think nature’s
creatures are our subordinates, yet they don’t tote guns,
start wars, or pollute, steal, discriminate, cheat,
or practice cruelty the way we “smart ones” do.
Animals may kill to eat, but we for a thousand reasons or
maybe none. Imagine what we might learn from nature’s world,
or from a different life form I can easily imagine, light years
away under a foreign sun, these exemplary souls of peace and
harmony. My mind resonates with thoughts these beings learned all
the lessons we ignored, stretching psyches to total intelligence.
We’re partially there, not almost, but imagine the possibility.
November 28, 2009 – 12:41 pm
His sleep story came in vivid color on a dark
winter’s night.
Ancient in years, he lay alone
in his rickety bed clutching his only pillow
which, like him, was stained and creased from
time’s cruel assault. He knew his remaining days
were waning, the constant clock ticking them away,
but loneliness and age robbed any concern.
Sinking his head into the crusty pillow, sleep
conquered the old man in no time, the dream following
close behind, capturing his psyche, holding his
mind at ransom. Swiftly, the dream carried him
off to see the world even with eyes tightly
shut, his sleepy unawareness transformed to
conscious thought without his awakening.
In minutes he saw what he had never seen in all his
abundant years: people of all colors, creeds, and religions
living side by side in peace and harmony. He saw
nothing remained of war, hunger, disease, or crime
but bitter memories. Awake now, he refocused on
reality, indifferent once again his days were few.
November 23, 2009 – 1:24 pm
Introduced as a 13 year old, she waved, beaming,
as I thought she can’t be a day over 11. A slow
and somber sonata signaled her slow, soft glide
across the frozen floor.
Without a hint, Bach soon lashed out with fury,
his up tempo allegro sending her speeding, now
spinning, jumping, twisting, her arms and legs
seemingly connected as they moved in harmonious
agreement. The music slowed once more, now dark
and melancholy, and she skated easily, relaxed,
catching her breath in preparation for Bach’s
torrid, unrestrained finale.
Moments later, she hastened again, more so
than before, her mind and body in total command
of an array of balletic movements, ending with an
abrupt stop, a plume of icy spray behind her.
Thunderous applause and tossed bouquets filled the air,
mixed with shouts of “Bravo!”. Witness to such perfection,
delivered by such a small child, I wiped away a tear.
“Bravo!” I yelled, “Bravo!”
November 23, 2009 – 1:19 pm
Whirling, spinning survivors, I couldn’t control my
laughter as I looked at Ann’s ashen face, her hair a
windblown forest, her tongue lapping back and forth
trying to lick off cotton candy plastered on both
cheeks. “You’re the bravest person I know” I
laughed, “who else would try to eat cotton candy
while riding the Octopus?”
We ambled on down the midway, deciding to see a couple
of sideshow freaks, their makeup so obviously phony
I laughed tears from my eyes, while lovable but gullible Ann
studied them in earnest awe. So many things to see and do.
Exhibits, rides and games, competitions, animals big and small,
attractions galore.
I dipped into my pockets for the evening’s much
advertised concert, after which Ann wanted to
check out the pig judging finals. I agreed, saying
we better grab a coney island first because seeing
pork will make me hungry. Her turn to laugh, she did,
spreading the cotton candy wide
on her cute little face.
November 21, 2009 – 11:44 am
Kate gave me a houseplant
Twas nothing more to me
She said it was a bromeliad
I laughed heartily
I wouldn’t want a name like that
So I called it Ann Marie
Kate said it would be a friend
A plant? Now how could that be?
Just something else to take care of
The thought brought me no glee
I placed it in sunlight
On the table with the potpourri
As time marched on I did my best
To tend to it responsibly
Fed and sprayed and watered it
Babied it tenderly
On my birthday, a special gift
From, by now a friend, Ann Marie
A red and yellow flower
Blossomed just for me
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