Oddments

In search of story


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September 25.19

On a bland and barren slab of clay

something delicate and fine —

did it touch my path by accident

or was it by design?

 

A lot of things take on deeper meaning these days, dear reader. I am given much to think about. My grandchildren spent the night with me this past weekend; my fifteen-year-old granddaughter is now a vegetarian because of her convictions. I am trying to reduce plastic in my life. My own aging body tells me daily nothing is forever. A lone butterfly seems to block my way in angry silence. Just my imagination, right?

 


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July 3.19

Once upon a time

I was so very small

I played in a hydrangea

to me sequoia tall;

above me peeked the sky

through rosy lattice dome,

so magical the place

I wanted never to go home.

I slid down baby leaves

bright green and paper thin,

rappeled on threads of silk,

then climbed back up again.

Parasols of petals

became my firmament

as I lolled in axel cubby

daydreaming, content.

But I felt a tingling change

back to my normal size

and had to hitch a ride

with a pair of dragonflies.

I scarcely could believe

what I saw with my own eyes,

but how frabjous the adventure

you may easily surmise.

 

 

Did you know, dear reader, that tomorrow is Alice in Wonderland Day?

I didn’t either.

Usually I’m thanking S.W. Berg for his photo. This photo is mine, but the reminder to celebrate Alice in Wonderland Day is from him. So thanks, Bill. It’s good to remember that a world of absurdities is nothing new.

 


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July 2.19

I am Gardener:

hear me growl.

Voracious brigands

sneak and prowl.

They come by land,

they come by air,

hordes on wing

and hordes from lair.

My harvest shrinks

with every hour

as they attack,

englut, devour.

Coneflowers! Moss roses!

My zinnia patch!

Impatiens! Basil!

Down the hatch!

I mix and sprinkle,

shake and douse;

my garden fragrance

l’eau d’outhouse.

Instead of blooms

and flowering vines,

all I see

are dollar signs.