Today has been a perfect spring day here at Doright Manor. As I sat outside with a wee glass of wine and a good book I began hearing a pair of owls calling to each other from across the neighborhood. I snapped this photo and dare you to find the owl. I call this one, “I Promise There’s an Owl in This Photo!”
Clever way to introduce an author! Well done Mike Steeden!
SHEHANNE MOORE’S CENTRAL HEATING PUMP
“Well Shehanne, luv…or may I call you Shey…I can? Nice one. Thanks for the cuppa. I must say strong tea, when combined with a generous slice of your very own homemade Dundee Cake provides a real treat for the taste buds, although inevitably the cake doesn’t dunk like what my preferred Garibaldi biscuits do. Never mind though.
To the point. You’d be amazed at the number of issues you romantic novelists have with your central heating pumps…beats me, but there you have it! Still all sorted now. The problemo was none other than a jammed propeller due to foreign stuff in the central heating seeping into to your all-important pump. May I ask you a question? Tell me, do you keep rodents?”
“I do actually, my hamsters”
“Well there’s your answer. Hamsters, or should I say, rodents belonging…
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I took this one at the Tallahassee Museum last week. That’s Studly Doright (Poppa) experiencing the Tree to Tree adventure. Let’s call this one, “Holy Crap! What Has He Gotten Himself Into?”
Grandson Garrett had to share a photo of his giant slice of pizza from MoMo’s in Tallahassee with his cousin in Texas. I called this one, “Wish You Were Here!”
The youngest grandchild explored St. George Island on a blustery spring day. I call this one, “Harper Storms the Beach.”
I got my shingles vaccine on Monday.
Now all I want to do is lounge atop the house.
I love Jan Wilberg!
Viewed from behind, the man appeared to be headless. There were his khaki pants, his white shirt neatly tucked in, a cane swinging as he walked, but where his head should have been there was only his collar. As we drove by him and I turned to look again, I saw that he was so badly bent over from the shoulders that he was looking straight at the ground as he walked.
And the first thing I thought of was, I bet he was handsome when he was young. Maybe he played ball and drove a fast car. He was probably trim like he is now, one of those guys who can wear their wedding suit fifty years later. I reflected on the bent over man being young and I felt sorry for him. And then as fast as I felt sorry for him, I felt sorry for myself. It’s…
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Studly Doright freaked out a little when he saw this critter near the beach on St. George Island. I call this one, “Dreaded Bungee Cord Viper.”
Trump’s bunch has some funny ideas about what Americans want. I’m not laughing.
Director of Trump’s Office of Management and Budget, Mick Mulvaney, cares about single moms in Detroit, and he cares about coal miners in West Virginia. He cares so much so that he wouldn’t ask either to foot the bill for educational television, or the Arts. As a single mom myself, I would like to say thank you Dick– sorry– thank you Mick for not asking.
But Mick, you didn’t ask me how I felt about funding an Aspen trip for Trump’s entitled extended family. I see that $12,000 was spent on ski rentals for the 100 secret service officers who were required to provide around the clock protection for the elite billionaire spawn and their spawn over spring break. That entire bill was paid for by taxpayers like me…a single mom, and taxpayers like that coal miner in West Virginia. Trumps who have never known what it is to go without…
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Your combination of the every day and the heartbreaking always shakes me to the core.
May I Be Familiar
Do we find you in what you’ve left or where you’ve gone.
In words you could not form, or forgot long ago.
Missing the pastels, the shades, all nuance.
With moistened hands, I pat rice into a ball and wrap it in seaweed.
By my reckoning, the word who no longer implicates.
Ritual accumulates significance in memory.
Forgotten fruit on the sill. A whisper nailed to the wall.
Honor and pride line your earthen home.
Though you never did, I pickle ginger. Make takuan.
The transparent house reflects no gaze and contains no one.
Gathering your absence, I coil it around my body.
* * *
“May I Be Familiar” is included in my mini-digital chapbook,Interval’s Night, published by Platypus Press as part of their 2412 series.
Praying for Eyebrowz 