Place Value
by Leslie Noyes
Numbers on a line:
Finite representation of infinity with
No omega and a debatable alpha.
One truly is the loneliest number.
If whole numbers claim the left side of the decimal, do broken ones occupy the right?
Why are there no oneths?
The asymmetry is worrisome, yet the pleasantly sibilant sound of thousandths compensates.
What’s your favorite number?
Mine is five and three hundred sixty-eight thousandths; although, I’ve never had it printed on a sports jersey.
Burn, Baby, Burn
by Leslie Noyes
There’s a fire out in the pasture, so sound the great alarm, it’s crackling down the corn rows, now threatening the barn.
We’d fight the fire with water, but the well dried long ago, now it’s too late to save the farm, and we’ve no place to go.
So hurry, save the chickens, the horses, and the rest, so they can perish another day when we fail the next big test.
Dire warnings were extended by experts in the know, but the idiots ignored them and allowed the fires to grow.
For profits’ sake we’ll pay the price, the ultimate tragic loss, while politicians fiddle a tune for their new greedy boss.
Note: I thought I had this scheduled to post on Earth Day.
Look how pretty the flowers in my courtyard area are. I’m just beginning to decorate this spot, so I’m calling this one, “Not a Bad Start.”
The Pull of Time
by Leslie Noyes
Nothing matters now,
With the exception of love
And the pull of time.
A hushed, unrushed love,
Long minutes, long limbs entwined;
Sweet slippery hours.
Time always intrudes,
Pleasures turn to promises
Measured in drab days.
Almost bought these shoes at Goodwill today. I’m calling this one, “No Regrets.”
I love that Facebook posts a daily memory on my feed. Sometimes it’s a photo I shared last year, sometimes a silly meme from way back.
Today, it was a post from three years ago on this date. I wasn’t blogging back then and the name Studly Doright hadn’t yet occurred to me–he was still David. Likewise our home hadn’t yet been dubbed Doright Manor. How boring, right? Yet somehow we still existed. Here’s what was going on four years ago:
We had torrential rains all night Thursday and woke up to a steady drizzle yesterday. I had to work for a couple of hours on Friday morning, but coaxed David to take a drive to St. George Island in the afternoon.
Of course he grumbled about the rain, but I promised to take him to an outstanding burger place if he’d just take me to the beach. I might’ve made other promises, but I’m not telling those.
We took the scenic route and soon enough were rewarded by the sight of waves crashing against the shore and the “stork” houses as I call them, raised on pillars to allow the water to flow around and through with minimal consequence. Even the ugliest, plainest of these homes on stilts fascinates me. I think I need one.
We found Bayside Burgers at Eastpoint just in time for a late lunch, then took the bridge over to the island. I could visit every day. Tide was high when we got there, but it wasn’t raining; although, we could see areas of precipitation all along the beach.
The clouds were so low that the differences between heaven, earth, and the gulf were difficult to discern. Who could imagine the beauty in the different shades of grey?
Note: Bayside Burgers is no longer in business! I was so disappointed on my last visit to discover it had been torn down and a Mexican food restaurant put up in its place.
The picture below is not one I took, but I found it on Pinterest when I searched “Eastpoint.” Likewise, the featured image of the bridge is from Pinterest. Eastpoint and St. George Island are must see places on Florida’s Forgotten Coast.
The wildflowers are growing with abandon just down the road from Doright Manor. I call this one, “I’m Pretty Sure These are Making Me Sneeze, But Aren’t They Pretty.” Maybe I’ll just shorten that to “Ahhhchooo!”
I stumbled into the middle of a manhunt in Tallahassee today. I’d gone to eat lunch at Firehouse Subs on Capital Circle having become slightly addicted to their New York Streamer sandwich. The small size is only 360 calories and it tastes so darned good. But back to the manhunt.
As I walked out of the restaurant I heard the distinct sounds of a helicopter directly above me. I waved, for what it’s worth, and went on to my car.
When I turned into a side street I saw a police cruiser, lights flashing, partially blocking the road. An officer standing by her patrol car waved me through. I still hadn’t connected her presence with the hovering helicopter, but when I turned the next corner and saw three cruisers and a police van, I realized I was probably in the middle of something big.
I was just trying to get back to Capital Circle so I could go home, so I kept driving and turned right again. There, coming down the sidewalk toward my car was a police canine and his cop. That dog had the scent and was pulling hard on his leash.
Hurriedly I found a way out of the area and drove to Home Depot a few blocks away. As soon as I was parked I googled breaking news in Tallahassee. Two possibilities popped up.
Now, I’m not sure which of these headlines is pertinent to the manhunt. One would certainly be more interesting than the other.
Was it this person they were using dogs to search for?
Or this one?
You know which one I’m rooting for, right?
Peace, people. And for goodness sake, put on some clothes!
I call this one, “Not-So Long and Winding Road, with Apologies to The Hollies.”
For this day I’ve decided to be a secret agent. I will be unobtrusive, nondescript, a silhouette of my usual self.
My cavalier demeanor will bely my purpose: to spy, observe, and report on my fellow citizens.
So far, I have noted one woman pushing a baby stroller. What nefarious plan might she be hatching?
I will hide in plain sight in hopes that her motives are revealed. Oh! Look! Starbucks on the right. Maybe another day.
Praying for Eyebrowz 