March 14, 2017

Why the Diagonal, y'all?



Because it's the shortest distance

between two

points?

or

because what goes up must come

down?

or

to break up the conformism of these trunkated

lines?

or

because it

snowed?

or

because this old tree was just ready to begin its

fall?



or

because its time had come, y'all?

or

because that's

all

she wrote

or

maybe it was just the final

call,

from seed to tall

from spring to fall.

It could happen to us

all,

y'all.

From seed to fall,

that's all?

Prob'ly not,

I do believe.



You?

Glass half-Full

An English Lesson for Birdbrains

In the English language, appending an "s" at the end of a common noun renders the word plural, as in:

Birds eat.

Example:

The other side of the story in English is this: appending an "s" at the end of a verb designates the present tense:

Bird eats.

Example:

In the Faith language, appending a statement of faith to an event renders it more meaningful.

Example:

"Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them."

In Economics language, appending a bird pic and a statement of faith to an unemployed birdbrain's idle musings renders the event an experience of faith instead of foolishness.

That's today's lesson.

Go in peace.

Glass half-Full

Blood runs through it

It not very often that a man can see

such a sight as this little nest in a tree

woven among branches, for free.

An ole fella showed it to me.



One of those rusty little robin mamas hath done this;

She been hoppin around on grass

pluckin up worms and strands and God only knows

what all she be extractin for these little critters to eat.



Why just a little while back

when I was achin for spring to pop out

she come hoppin around like she own the place.

Now look what she done.



As I look at this wonder in the tree

three little miracles do I see:

that tweeky yellow beak, fully formed it seems to me,

quite prickly in the midst of that soft bird infancy,



and a fat vessel where birdie's red blood I see

in this miniscule critter balled up in sibling idiocy

as these clueless hatchlings await their turn

to grab from mama beak a big fat worm,

or two.

Who knew?



And number three wonder is the vigilant care

with which mama robin hath woven this nest so fair.

She must really love them little critters in there,

dispensing her care from out of thin air.



Now somewhere deep in my memory

someone said only God can make a tree;

now I'm amazed he grew this tree here for me

so I can view such new life from mama birdie.



Glass Chimera

Bird at my Window

Here's a little bird by my window.

How he landed here I do not know.

I can't understand why he paused from winging,

then a-lighted here upon my contemplative feeling

while I sip darjeeling.

Now as I don't know why a caged bird would sing,

so do I not comprehend why some free bird should fling

himself against this glass invisible thing.

Bird at my Window

Now as I watch him here, while I am sitting,

and I do ponder on his fretful flitting,

I know not what fate my future life might bring

can't foresee what stones some enemy might sling

nor anticipate what news some fateful bell will ring.

I don't know what pesky thing

might attach itself to me to cling

to bet against my errant dealing,

or abscond my precious, hard-earned bling.

For all I know, someday Life may send me reeling;

I might even bang my head upon the ceiling,

like my bird friend at this window reeling.

But after a while, being a human being,

I'd certainly seek some healing,

Surely I would pray, even kneeling,

to shed my stubborn sins and fears, like onion peeling.

Unto merciful God I'll someday be appealing;

T'is then I'll beat my head upon some heavenly window,

when to eternity's grand dwelling I will go.

Like this wacky bird with such stubborn sass,

I'll knock my head on heaven's glass.

Let me in.

Let me in!

Bird at my Window

Glass half-Full

The Memory of Wild

Deep down inside
it is there
or is it?
high above the green forest canopy
nearly hidden from our sights.
or hiding from our captive
civilizing acquisitive
sites.
Living high above our territory
it is there
or is it?
burrowing beneath the trod of human feet
cringing from electronic drumbeat
of civilizing man
beneath the artifacts
among fossils
fleeing us fools
flora and fauna
i wanna
u. I think therefore
am I?

Glass Chimera