Oddments

In search of story


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March 31.20: Coping

A window should be two-way

just as life should be about.

Who will we become

if it’s just for looking out?

If all the world is framed

by the glass in our four walls,

will our brains all turn to mush,

our strides turn into crawls?

 

 

More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,

and to the anonymous cat,

who obviously did not trust the photographer.

 


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March 25.20: Coping

The pond always helps me cope. As a body of water, it couldn’t be humbler: a mere retention pond, gunky in the summer, lacking tide and horizon, held in entirety by a few back yards, it is little more than a puffed-up puddle. But I watch it with growing respect and affection. Occasionally I have been weak in the head and have presumed to know it. And then it teaches me I don’t know much.

Case in point: two days ago I spotted what I thought were ducks. Suddenly they were gone and the water was empty. Then they reappeared some place else. I was hallucinating ducks?

Naturally I ran for my camera with its zoom lens. With great ado, I caught a close-up but before I could focus and take a picture they were gone again. Only a flutter of the water remained.

To make an excruciatingly long story short, I ended up with a million bad photos and some time on Google. Now I know there is such a thing as diving ducks. Like quacking submarines: now you see them, now you don’t! And they haveĀ  wonderful names! I believe mine are buffleheads. I want them to be buffleheads because I want to be able to say I have buffleheads.

I do try to avoid the word “cute,” but I can’t when describing these. As they paddled toward me, they looked like the cutest salt and pepper shakers I ever did see. Next to the mallards, mere toys.

I hope they come back.

 

 


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March 22.20

The pond mirror

in leaden shinery

tells form

absent finery/

long-leggedy beastie

starkly spindly

twiggy as spring

winter-dwindly.

 

 

With thanks to the Bump-In-The-Night prayer.

Full disclosure, dear reader: I changed this post. A few hours after I posted it, different words started to poke around in my head. I didn’t ask for them. They just started bullying me.

 


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February 22.20

Look both ways

our parents told us,

and if we didn’t

they’d yell and scold us,

but a harder lesson,

heaven knows,

if cars and trucks

drove over our toes.

A lesson for life,

to look aft and fore,

then run like the wind,

wide-eyed and full bore!

 

Thanks yet again and a rousing HAPPY BIRTHDAY

to photographer S. W. Berg!