Timely Timely

Another one I wrote a few years back. Today seems like a little time warp, so I'm revisiting it.

Gee, Time Flies!

That sneaky, fooling wiggle hand

Sometimes speed demon

Sometimes snail

Can’t see it move at all.

That strict, straight marching hand

Tick tock lock step

Ever striking sharp sounds

Doesn’t sleep, doesn’t stand still.

That fuzzy floating free hand

Can’t pin it down

No digital readout

No sundial on a cloudy day.

Even really smart guys

Even super science girls

Can’t really say

Time…what is it, anyway?

Is it like a calendar?

Little blocks lined up

Keeps days organized

Monday is a school day….yes!

Is it like a star chart?

Who’s right here when?

Keeps us all on our toes

Time for lunch, time for bed!

Scary loud alarm buzz

Sweet old tick tock

Cuckoo bird from Germany

Silent sweeping watch hand,

All tell time or at least

What you need to know

When to stay and when to go

Measuring the hours.

Time in the big sky

Doesn’t jump, doesn’t jerk

Just goes round in a never ending

Never stopping circle kind of way.

Gee, time flies!

Little Feathers: Maybe the Wrong Season, But...

Little Feathers: Maybe the Wrong Season, But...: I wrote this a couple of years ago, and just came across it again. It made me think of fishing trips I've been on, of friends I know who...

Maybe the Wrong Season, But...

I wrote this a couple of years ago, and just came across it again. It made me think of fishing trips I've been on, of friends I know who love to fish, of that little pause in reality, that little wrinkle in the fabric of the cosmos when something takes the bait.

Though it is chilly out and time to think of turkeys, I just had to share.

Too Hot to Fish

“I want to learn to fish,” I said,

He looked at me, and scratched his head,

“You picked a rotten day to start!

Too hot to fish around these parts!”

I gave him my cash and signed my name,

“I’d like to try it, just the same.”

We climbed in the boat and he said, “OK,

 But I betcha nothin’ bites today!”

Just then a bubble gurgled up,

A fishy head was seen below,

“Look there, he’s smilin’! That ain’t right!”

A smiling catfish! What a sight!

The man went wild and grabbed his pole,

“And right here in my fishin’ hole!

I’ll catch this sneaky catfish now!”

He dropped his hook over the bow.

“If I could catch me one of them,”

He said, while sweat poured off of him,

“This sun would cook him in the boat

I’d eat him right here while I float!”

Nothing happened for a bit,

No nibbled worm, no swim-by hit.

“It’s not my fishin’!” he said, real gruff,

 “For fishin’, I got all the stuff!”

He held up his pole with its fancy reel,

He held up his brown wicker fishing creel,

His gesture included his fine tackle box,

And even his fish-themed fishing socks!

“I tell you, it’s not me that’s beat,

It’s this dad gum blazing summer heat!”

Just then he caught my eye, and grinned

“Guess I should be teachin’ you, my friend!”

We trolled to other secret holes,

Though no other fishermen dipped their poles,

Try as we may, in his special spots,

No fish would bite, it was just too hot!

“Sorry son,” he said at last

When shadows cooled us as we cast,

But all of sudden my bobber went splash

And what happened next was worth all my cash!

“It looks like a big one!” He sat up straight,

“We’re in luck now, son, he took your bait!”

I was reeling and pulling, the fish full of fight,

I just couldn’t land him, try as I might.

The man stood up in the boat, and it veered

Wild to one side where my line disappeared!

Into the lake we both went in a flash

With all of the gear and the bait and the cash.

Sputtering up, the man looked around,

“Oh no! My gear!” He said, diving back down.

We brought up the creel and the cool tackle box,

And of course, he still had his fishing socks.

But somewhere in that big old lake

Is a laughing catfish who likes to take

Time and hooks from those who wish

To fish on day that’s too hot to fish!

Little Feathers: On the Road

Little Feathers: On the Road: It is pretty common knowledge that the power to be happy lies within us. That the way to open our eyes and our hearts to the blessings we ha...

On the Road

It is pretty common knowledge that the power to be happy lies within us. That the way to open our eyes and our hearts to the blessings we have been given is so simple, we can be tempted to make it too complex. We can make our happiness dependent on others, on conditions on the far side of our own skin.

It is also common knowledge that life is a journey, a passage to understanding. It can be tempting to combine those two ideas and feel that happiness lies somewhere on down the road. As if choosing happiness now, this minute, is premature.

Almost everyone I know is pedaling as fast as they can. They are juggling obligations and commitments, scheduling in some time for "fun" if they feel they deserve it. I have been hurrying, myself, since last winter, working on that Ghoultide project you may have heard me talk about (my close friends and family may be praying never to hear the "g" word again). I have muscled it in directions that I found out were dead ends, picked it up like a heavy stone and hurried back down that road to try another fork. Much of the past few months, I kept my head down, carrying that self imposed load. It was completed last week, and since then I am kind of floating along, feeling guilty that I'm not busy with something important (don't worry, I am chuckling at what I think is important). Bob and I have been home most of the time, as he had his knee replaced on Friday. In the quiet moments when nothing is happening, I have begun to unwind. And to think. And to pray. And to be grateful.

We live outside of town again, and though I didn't really want to leave the city when we moved last spring, I have come to love the quiet and the stars and the little critters out here. And the fresh air! Until this week, I drove the 80 mile round trip nearly every day, my blood pressure rising as I entered the giant ant hill of activity and traffic that is the big city. Depending on your nature, that bustle can be invigorating, or daunting.  Now I look at my little car and am glad I'm not climbing inside for the 70mph highway trek. I am on a different road. And this one has flowers along side.

There may be nothing new under the sun. Revelations may need to be broken and poured on my spirit over and over in slightly different ways before I can see them. I'm not really dumb, I'm just a human who keeps falling back into the habit of thinking I can control any of those things on the far side of my skin. I can do my best work (and even that can be a comparative trap!) and then muster up the courage to put it out there in the wide world, but I can't control anyone else's reaction to it. I can choose to let that reality keep me from trying, but I know better. I know that the best way to make sure no one likes it is to keep it to myself. But the truth is, I have no desire to spend time creating anything just for myself. So, I'll do that thing that risks rejection. I am compelled by my own nature. So, I remind myself that writing is not a burden, it is an opportunity. It is part of me, and it is ever evolving.

This morning in my quiet time I was reminded again that today is my day. Though I love family gatherings most of all things, I don't need to wait until a birthday dinner or a holiday to be truly happy. I don't need to run toward the next fun thing, blinders firmly in place, ignoring the blessing of this ordinary Wednesday. Moving forward, heading on down the road, does not have to preclude me from seeing this spot in time with the vision I only have when standing still.

I think we must all be trained to think that accomplishing something with our lives gives our time on earth meaning. Getting there faster, in the best car, with the most accolades is hollered from the rooftops as the way to be someone. Someone worthy of admiration. But I think about some of the people I have loved the most in my life, and I see the way that they treated others and themselves was the thing that made them someone. Someone. They were on the road, too. They kept getting older every day, but with a grace born of gratitude. I believe they woke up on an ordinary Wednesday and said thank you. Wednesday wasn't a blur on the way to the important days.

I'm grateful for the journey. I am. I am grateful that I have been given people to love, projects to fulfill the need inside to say something, grateful for the wisdom of others on this road. And today, on Wednesday, Nov 12th, I am grateful that I can stand here a minute and breathe. Maybe I need to remember my road has scenic pullouts where I can just pause and look out there, beyond myself. The bend, the next hill to climb can wait.

Little Feathers: Horses, Donkeys and Mules

Little Feathers: Horses, Donkeys and Mules: Sometimes I wake up with words in my brain, as if my sleeping self knows some stuff that my waking self needs to remember. This morning it w...

Horses, Donkeys and Mules

Sometimes I wake up with words in my brain, as if my sleeping self knows some stuff that my waking self needs to remember. This morning it was a sentence: the fall from a high horse can take your breath away. Well, I said to my sleeping self, what makes you think I'm on a high horse? Sigh. Doh. Most times when I'm so sure I'm right about something that I actually pity the one who doesn't see the truth that I see, bells and sirens should actually be going off to warn me of a coming fall. Do I learn from past experiences as far as humility goes? Sometimes. But, evidently, I'm not done with that lesson because it keeps popping back up.

I used to think that the people who knew the most were the ones who were the smartest. Then I began to notice that the same people who had a vast storehouse of acquired knowledge were sometimes light in the common sense area. Or the creative one. Or the philosophical one. Or they can't fathom how to have a relationship. I came to understand that there are many kinds of intelligence. Athleticism is a kind of intelligence. Some things we call talents are, quite simply, a kind of intelligence. How great it would be if our society valued them all. How great it would be if the teacher who can ignite the imaginations of children was seen as every bit as valuable as the home run hitter. Or the tech support people who can listen to our complaints and figure out a solution with their eyes closed. How about the dancer who holds choreography in their brain for dozens of dances that are never the same, never to be repeated after this performance? Or the musician who can sight read, transpose, memorize thousands of notes. How about the illustrator who reads some words and expands them into a visual representation? You get my drift.

What does this have to do with a high horse? What if we all remembered that the people we encounter everywhere are just as intelligent as we are? What if we knew that the football player who just showed incredible skill, but bad grammar in the after-game interview, was just as intelligent as we are on our best day? What if the politician who said something we desperately disagreed with was given the same dignity to have an opinion that we want for ourselves? That is a toughy for me. There are some people who sound so thoroughly ignorant that I can't really give them the respect I want for myself. But I don't know them. I don't see how they hold their children or sit beside their spouse or mother in a hospital room. I don't see their souls. I can't. But I can't afford to assume I'm better than they are. It is a high, high horse a long, long way from the ground. I can disagree with them. I can even dislike them. But feeling superior is a bad idea.

No matter what you believe about Jesus, he was certainly a model of humility. No prancing stallion for him. He rode a donkey.

Today, when I think about what is real and what is perceived, I want to stay off the horse. If I can't quite manage a donkey, I'll for sure try for the mule. The mule and I are kindred spirits, after all. A little stubborn. Something my sleeping self seems to know better than my walking self.