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A Win

I heard the news.

I unveiled my American flag. It has not seen the out-of-doors since this nightmare began. It rolls and waves on a light breeze on this beautiful autumnal day.

Here is hoping we are again, someday, the United States of America.

Vote

Deliver us from ignorance.

Happy Halloween

Samhain Greetings – May the coming season have mercy on our planet.

Owl Moon

Just past full, a moon so bright only major constellations are visible.

Early morning, autumn in the air, just me and the night critters.  An opossum and I startled each other mid-street.

Rounding a corner, an unmistakable call.  Somewhere in the trees to my left was a Great Horned Owl, I stopped. Soon, I realized I was  listening in the wrong direction.  The call was coming from my right, a greenbelt behind a string of low-slung ranch-style homes.

Then I caught on.  It was a duet, the conversation of two Great Horned Owls, with me in the middle.  I listened in for some time before the call to my left threaded off as it flew quietly through the dark.  My cue to leave.

There is magic in the language of owls.  And a kind of hope, at least so says author Jane Yolen.  “The kind of hope that flies on silent wings under a shining Owl Moon.”

 

 

9/11/2020

Nineteen years.

Bless all those lost that day and those who tried to help, who themselves became sick from the toxic dust.

Not forgotten.

On Gardening

When you pull weeds, it is a lot easier to see.

STOP

Even on a quiet day, it is rare when music is not running through my mind. No need to stream music or the radio, it is always there.  Maybe it is that way for you, too. New tunes sometimes come by, but they never stay long. Most often it is something I heard long ago, or just yesterday.

This morning it was the music and lyric, “it starts when you’re always afraid, step out of line, the man come and take you away.”

In the minute it took me to find the song on YouTube, I was crushed by the realization that the lyrics apply today as well as they did in 1966.  Racism, misogyny, poverty, ignorance, and greed are as rampant now as then.  Did anything really change? Does it ever change? Or do generations just wear different clothes, hairstyles, grow old and die feeling satisfied that they made a difference when they didn’t?

The current times expose the fetid underside of the American Dream, of human nature. While it needs to be seen and hopefully engaged, the collective grief is breathtaking.

Political commentary is beyond me. But this has got to stop.

 

For What It’s Worth

There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind

I think it’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side

It’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

We better stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, now, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

Five to Eleven

The clock stopped.

At approximately 10:55 AM or PM, on some day in the last five months, the three AA batteries powering the old alarm clock gave up.  In about the same span, time stopped for more than 600,000 people globally who have, so far, perished at the receptors of an invisible viral invader.

I can replace the batteries. No one can replace the souls or salve the sorrow. Divine dictate does not drive pandemics. Germs do. That they outnumber us is a condition of residency on this planet.

Yet something stirs.  Though stilled, there remains enough power in the clock for its light when touched in the dark.  Something to that.

 

When Dogs Dream

A furry paw twitches, breath quickens, a tail flicks.  Dream-chasing rabbits in a game of hide and seek.

It’s quiet now.  The dreamer passed on to the Great Grassy Yard today.

The name was Bond.  James Bond.

Great shaggy head, those furry paws ran the Great Grassy Yard in this world until age took its toll.

Everyone thinks their dog is special—and they are right.  James brought energy to my family that had been missing forever—that is pretty heavy lifting for a dog.

Or a doge.  James was an AKC Champion Shiba Inu, contributing many puppies to the world in his years at stud.  And then he whirled into our lives, a pal to all with a driving interest in squishing squeak toys while rolling upon them, four paws in the air.

The man himself is no longer, but his soul lives on. He passed at home where he used to run, surrounded by flowers, butterflies, sky, trees, and the wind.

Of James, no truer words were ever spoke, “He has been a life force for friendly tolerance.” Few of any species can say the same.  I will miss you James.

Was it then?

Up the gentle green hill, mid-morning sun dapples through the leafy ring around this landscape. Pick up speed running down again, laughing, arms akimbo, making fluttering shadows in the sun.

What’s it all for?

Once many of us ran our own green slopes when young.  Half a century later, probably few of those young’uns do.  For me, time has collapsed, my future passed, and the timeless summer day comes again. If only for the exhilarating run past sun, shade, and flower on a peerless blue sky day.