Mid-morning. Carol is readying for physical therapy
at the community center. You have checked your email and had a Kroger soft cookie
treat after breakfast. – Amorella
0858
hours. Life is continually interesting. Around 1120 hour yesterday you
commented:
You
are concerned about this poem writing but you need not be. It’ll come into play
sometime today. Post. – Amorella
I had no idea what I would come up with. When it hit me to
observe the actual Scottish dancing on You-tube I thought that was in reference
to “into play” and that I had ‘self-fulfilled’ the prophecy so to speak. Only
later, when I suddenly realized I had a poem that might fit I thought ‘Eureka,
I have done the poem today.’ The poem that came to mind in a flash was my:
** **
DRUID'S LAMENT
There’s
a paced march of an army of ants
And
wrens a-fluttering in a kind of dance,
Thick
dark leaves turned over real light
And
thick meadow clover bent just right.
It's
about time for sowing winter's wheat
The
West wind’s a-blowing across my feet,
The
mighty yellow Sun is moving on South
Big
Moon’s rising near small stream's mouth.
When
water begins to churning white and high
Come
rains, come rains, come rains try;
Cool
me down, make me thick and muddy
Make
my heart beat fast, my cheeks quite ruddy.
The
shrilling sounds of troops of crickets
Swirlling
in my mind like rabbits in a thicket;
Small
thicket made magic with lots of things to do
Before
Fall sets in and the Harvest i8 through.
North-west
breeze sniffing at my door
This
hot summer’s blast will be nevermore;
Bright
Harvest Moon, soon will be rising
Cool
bright, like love gone philosophizing.
I’m
walking on with my friends and clutter
Chirping
my thoughts with a bit of a flutter;
Dancing
and churning and swirling about
Like a wren in a thicket in a late
summer’s drought.
** **
Once
I read the poem I realized it was too long and more nature oriented than I
wanted. I looked over the table of contents of Take Two and found “Beltane’s
Eve” with its twenty lines. Now there is no coincidence here – my observation
is all from my mind – showing how I worked through the problem and solved at
least the first part. Now I have to write (through Amorella) Dead 10 and then
put the poem in my twenty-first century perspective.
Nearing
noon. You did your forty minutes of exercises and continue to feel better (psychologically)
for it. Carol is working on bills to pay and errands to do after lunch at
Smashburgers. Let’s work on Dead Ten until time to go. - Amorella
It
rained hard through lunch but when you arrived home after errands you found it
had only sprinkled a bit. Carol is napping and you are thinking about it. You
did read the Popular Science that arrived today.
1524
hours. One of the interesting articles talked about two robotic kits that were $250
and $500 each. If Owen were older I would buy him one to build if he was
interested. Shoot, I’d even think about buy me one if it would do stuff.
Check out the robots that are available. –
Amorella
1736
hours. Carol and I napped after I checked out the robots. Honda’s ‘Asimov’ is
the best and most sophisticated at the moment; the price about $2,500,000
thousand – a bit above my personal budget. We are at Kroger’s on
Mason-Montgomery Road. Carol has her list and is walking better every day. She’s
up to 123 degrees – her other leg is at 125; and her flatness is at 3 degrees
off zero, plus she has lost another quarter inch of puffiness. In another three
quarters of an inch both knees will be the same size. Very cool.
Today
she is wearing a nice gray T that she bought in Arizona and a light ivory pair
of pants/slacks with side pockets on the legs. Carol is quite attractive –
always has been as far as I am concerned. In college she was 123 pounds at five
foot seven inches and she is about 133 at the same height today. She has more
of her dad’s build – Dad H was six two or three and weighed about 165 at most –
tall and lanky – he was a track star when at Otterbein. These are approximates,
pretty close, but I wouldn’t swear to them. Anyway, the point in my head is
that Carol is looking good and walking better (her fuller natural gait every
day. The only time Carol wobbles is when she stands on one leg, her right leg.
She says she needs to gain a little more strength. – Next year will be time to
work on the left one then she’ll be done with the knees for fifteen to twenty
years. I’m proud of who she is. I’d be proud to know her even if I didn’t live
with her.
2234
hours. I thought the work done on Dead was in my notes – it should be for copy
sake. Here it is
** **
TEN
Roundabout Reel
The Supervisor has a little saying:
Ring-a-ring
o'rosies
A
pocket full of posies
"A-tishoo!
A-tishoo!"
We
all fall down!
We
rise from clay
On
judgment day
Be
we dead or still alive.
The Dead 10 – 1st draft
Wing-dancing spritely across leafy
forest
Feather
bright birds sing along in a chorus,
Dead
trees' gray fingers will leaf out quite soon
Under
misty full light of magic May Moon.
Merlyn
lies comfortably as a stone sarcophagus on the top of the granite-like mountain
separating him from the Earthling Dead. There is a difference up here in my sanctuary
from down by my hut and stream, he thinks. There is a residual effect, an echo
of sorts from life that may stay awhile in one or more of the person’s most intimate
surroundings. It is a place that most of the Living at one time or another get
the tincture of a haunting when the ghostly spirit as it were, is no longer
there or perhaps never was there consciously. That’s my observation that has no
more validity than I do. Such a lace of humor to drape me this side of the River;
a dark humor that forever sparks my humanity to survive beyond physical death.
Humor, to my spirit, is everywhere, a delight like a spring valley of fresh
flowerings. All one has to do on either side of the River is to observe one’s
surroundings. With this, Merlyn flashes above his sleepy stone-like head to the Supervisor’s saying in parchment-woven
heartanmind:
Ring-a-ring
o'rosies
A
pocket full of posies
"A-tishoo!
A-tishoo!"
We
all fall down!
We
rise from clay
On
judgment day
Be
we dead or still alive.
These,
the first words from the other side, and from our Supervisor’s mind no less –
gleaned intelligence. No tunnel or flash of light for me; nothing more than the
presence of words hanging in the dark. – 276 wk
** **
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