Trees, Trout and the Tufted Titmouse

When I touched the yellow Maple leaves

They entered me,

Without my knowing.

-from An October Astonishment by Garth Gilchrist

Trees take the eye to where it is,

where it was,

then over to distant hills,

far away to other places and times,

long ago.

-from Waiting for a Message by Rochelle Mass

How can we live

without the tree?

God's gift for us,

for you, for me.

The shade for rest,

the limb for nest.

What we are is spoken best,

by how we treat our trees.

-The Gift by jeff c.

resting winter tree

branches spread across the sky

waiting for spring green

-jeff c.

I part the out thrusting branches

and come in beneath

the blessed and the blessing trees.

Though I am silent

there is singing around me.

Though I am dark

there is vision around me.

Though I am heavy

there is flight around me.

-Woods by Wendell Berry

My fine son , Ben, while on a fishing excursion in Colorado and New Mexico in 2005

Do the little trouts have school

In some deep, sun-glinted pool,

And in recess play at tag

Round that bed of purple flag?

- from The Trout by Amy Lowell

Scholars have long known that fishing eventually turns men into philosophers. Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to buy decent tackle on a philosopher's salary.

-Patrick McManus

This tiny son of life; this spright,

By momentary Human sought,

Plume will his wing in the dappling light,

Clash timbrel shrill and gay-

And into time's enormous nought,

Sweet fed, will flit away.

-from The Titmouse by Walter de la Mare

The reason of all cowardice

Is that men are overgrown,

And, to be valiant, must come down

To the Titmouse dimension.

-from The Titmouse by Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Titmouse sleek, and top-notched gray

So eager to partake at my feeder this day

When so many others are 'now and then'

The tufted titmouse is my constant friend.

-from The Playground of My Dreams by jeff c.

Thanks bunches for joining me here on this wonderful Alphabe-Thursday. Thanks to Ms Jenny Matlock for facilitating this stupendous meme. It won't be long til we will finish our alphabet assignment. Will we graduate, or perhaps receive a new assignment?..maybe move on to another alphabet...Cherokee, Sanskrit,??? Please check out the many posts for Alphabe-Thursday at jennymatlock.blogspot.com.

Thoughts On Memorial Day 2010

The orderliness, the perfect symmetry belies the circumstance of war and its consequences...the peace that we seek will start within each of us...our resolve for peace must never be shaken by the winds, the tides that will test this resolve...

Home

“May I help you, miss? You look puzzled.”

“Mmmm… thank you, I’m just looking for my father. We came in together a moment ago, but he seems to have wandered off.”

We had just disembarked the Super Chief out of LA. We decided to stop in Winslow and stay the night. I was to check us in and then meet in the dining room.

The war was finally over. I had traveled from Chicago to LA to meet him on his return from the Pacific. He had been quiet for most of these first 10 hours together, asking occasionally about the old neighborhood, never speaking of the horrors of his experience.

As my eyes darted about the room suddenly there arose from the corner a rousing rendition of “You Are My Sunshine”. There stands my father, along with a dozen or so uniformed soldiers at the piano. Seated at the piano, and in full uniform is none other than Gene Autry. It is good to see dad in better spirits. My “sunshine” was finally home.

Yes,it is Saturday Centus time once again...a wonderful opportunity to explore our hidden literary talents. I would like to thank Jenny Matlock for facilitating this wonderful exercise in exploratory writing. Please visit and read all the wonderfully creative posts at jennymatlock.com.

I also would like to apologize to our 'teacher' for running over the 100 word limit. I fashioned this story in my mind and could not be moved from the scant details provided herein. Perhaps the balance from my oh so short post of last week with this week's will garner some reprieve from Ms Matlock.

This short story serves as a remembrance of all soldiers...those fallen and those safely returned. Peace and blessings to each of you...

Serrations in Sepia

...in the hurricane and the dance

in the liberty of the trance

in this serration

and that imagination

all mean less than the remembrance of fire.

-from I Will Find You by Remi Raji

Finely Serrated Leaves

and Doubly Serrated Leaves

and Broadly Serrated Leaves

With a Long-Legged Fly

Broadly Serrated Virginia Creeper

From their edges, there stream into the

smooth channel sharp blue serrations

or ripples of various lengths...

- Journal entry by Henry David Thoreau, July 24, 1853

while at Fair Haven near Walden Pond

Seen now through rain

the mountains fade,

the city fades

the serrations

of the skyline

delicately

dissolve like ink

on gray paper.

- from Mountains in the Rain

by Richard Risenberg

the salty sailor, the deck he swabbed,

until at last he had finished the job,

he went for a moonlit swim toward the sandy beach,

he swam stroke o'r stroke but the beach he would not reach,

for along came a large, rather ravenous shark,

whose habits brought it to the shallows well after dark,

with swift -toothed serration and no hesitation,

the shark gave the sailor complete evisceration,

leaving him only with a brief warm sensation.

End of story. No more narration.

- from The Playground of my Dreams

by jeff campbell

(blurred image of shark tooth for a sense of movement)

Peace and blessings and a hearty

"thank you" for your visit to my Alphabe-Thursday post.

I encourage you to check out the many fine posts for this weekly meme at jennymatlock.blogspot.com

"R" is for Ridiculously Sublime

Playground of My Dreams

I am participating in the ongoing meme, Saturday Centus, brought to you by Jenny at Jennymatlock.blogspot.com. It is a creative writing meme in which we are given a writing prompt. Using this prompt we then explore our own creative abilities in 100 words or less. I encourage you to try this and see if you might have a little Faulkner in you...The first paragraph below is the prompt, the second paragraph is mine...Peace, and may your pens flow...

I look back over my shoulder, squinting into the late afternoon sun, gawking with stunned alarm at the broad rolling muddy waters of the Mississippi.

What am I afraid of? That this dark and murky river holds secrets of my past...secrets that 'til now have only been revealed in the playground of my dreams.

"R" is for Ridiculous

Need I say more?