Deception

Preconceived notions deceive. Grapes are grape-sized, aren’t they? Unless they are champagne grapes—then they are not. These grapes will never get as big as the ones you see in the store, and if you wait for your expectations, you will miss out on a small sweetness.

How often do we miss out on the sweetness of life waiting for what we think is ideal.

A Day on the Porch

 

Peeking out,

Timid in the dewy dark.

A light, a rattle—a dark shape slinks by

Then stretches and sits and ponders a toad.

 

The light comes now

People go: doors and quick steps,

Hollers and kisses.

A light-induced bravery stiffens the neck—

Petals unfold.

 

The slinker pants behind the cedar;

Moisture sucked from leaves and dirt:

Hanging about between earth and sky,

A weight on the foreheads of little ones

Melting back inside.

The deep colors recede, head droops.

 

Beating down now, white hot

A slow simmer with head bowed low.

Then a shadow passes—

A brief respite, like a snow cone—

The postman makes his rounds.

 

Trapped

I’m going to get it when I get home. Momma told me not to take a short cut through the yard.

“Keep to the trees, son. Keep to the trees.”

If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. She just doesn’t understand my generation. We like to feel the grass on our feet. We don’t mind climbing a chain link fence or two. And running across the roof of the garage: well, she just wouldn’t understand.

Now I’m in for it. They’ve got me trapped. I can live with this animal against animal thing: I can out wait that dumb cat, but now there’s a two-leg involved in the whole deal. Cat on one side, two leg on the other. I hope momma doesn’t see me like this. I bet, I just bet, if I make a break for it, the cat and the two leg will collide going after me.

Wait, ah, here’s my chance. The two leg is going to consult with the cat. Idiot. That cat doesn’t have clue how to get me off the wall. Uh oh. The two leg is picking the cat up. What’s he going to do? I bet he’s going to throw the cat on me to knock me off the wall. Now’s my chance. If I just leap over the porch, I’m home free. No way that cat can beat me to the tree. Dumb cat. Dumb two leg.

Water Drops

Daddy?

Yes, Little Bit?

Where does that go?

Where does what go?

That water.

Oh, do you remember the lake we saw a little while ago?

Yes.

It probably goes there.

Oh. I bet they feel lost.

You bet who feels lost, Little Bit?

The little drops of water.

Why would they feel lost?

Because these are creek water drops, and the lake has lake water drops.

Oh, I see. But don’t you think that a water drop is a water drop no matter where it starts?

Yes—but—I mean, they’re the same, but these are not used to it being so deep. 

Do you think they will have a hard time adjusting?

I bet there’s nothing as fun as that waterfall in the lake.

I bet you’re right. But do you think they will be OK?

Probably, but I bet they will miss home. It’s hard to just sit in a lake if you’re made to jump off waterfalls. 

The Mirage

The men took great care in picking the perfect site. The hill provided a natural wind break. Still, they planted dense shrubs to provide more protection. They dug the pool and ensured a level base before pouring the concrete. The nobleman employed the finest architects and stone masons to ensure a glassy surface. The day came to fill the pool. The nobleman paced too and fro waiting for the ripples to subside that he might enjoy the perfect reflection of the archway: The Other Way he called it. His servant urged him back inside for the day, to wait for the morning stillness. 

He slept fitfully. Fuzzy dreams and vague thoughts unsettled his sleep. Twittering birds outside his window summoned him from his uneasy sleep. A pale gray wash followed the darkness, giving faint outlines to the objects in his room. He dressed quickly and went out. A steel sky held its breath. The reflecting pool lay calm and still but unrevealing in the dim dawn.

As the light seeped onto the gray palette, the sky exhaled. The moment The Other Way appeared, the breath of morning caressed the pool, sending shivers across the water. The image wavered and danced: a mirage of perfection.

Moon Rocks

Daddy?

Yes, Sunshine?

The bird in that nest could fly to the moon.

Don’t you think that’s a long way off?

No, look, they’re just that far away.

They do look close, but what would a bird do on the moon?

Silly Daddy, bring back moon rocks.

Oh, and why does a bird need moon rocks?

So her eggs won’t be lonely.

But isn’t she sitting with her eggs?

Yes—but—and—so a snake won’t get her eggs.

Will he be tricked by the hard rocks?

Of course, Daddy!

She’d go all the way to the moon to keep her babies safe from snakes?

She loves her babies, Daddy!

She must.

Perspective

Did the bird notice how close she was to the moon? Just flutter across a twig or two and fly—      

I suppose she wasn’t mislead by dormant branches and perspective—like me.

Dancer

 

Billows drop liquid marbles—

Splat—

Polkadotting stone standing

Balanced like a dancer

Showered with applause.

 

Checkered Cats

Daddy!

[from the other room] Yes, Sweetie?

They’re playing checkers.

Do you want to play, too?

I don’t think they will let me, Daddy.

Tell your sisters to let you play when they finish.

No—

Why not; I thought you wanted to play?

It’s not my sisters.

Oh, do you want me to play with you?

No, Daddy. I mean yes, Daddy, but—

Well, tell them it will be our turn next.

I can’t tell them that.

Why not, Sweetie?

I don’t think they’ll finish.

Why not?

Silly Daddy, they don’t know how to play.

Your sisters know how to play checkers, Sweetie.

It’s not my sisters playing, Daddy.

[coming into the room] Oh, I see. Who do you suppose will win?

Daddy, cats can’t play checkers.

Well, it sure looks like they’re trying.

But they can’t play checkers.

Why not, Sweetie?

Because, Daddy, they can’t put on a crown.

Incongruity

Humans add the spice of incongruity to the world. We seek to stamp the world with who we are, so incongruities abound. They may be as simple as the fonts on the storefront, as ironic as the pickup and covered wagon, or as unobtrusive as the green plastic chair sitting near the old wooden rocker. We bear another image. Unity (though corrupted) courses in our veins. That is why coffee keeps you awake for whatever marathon you happen to be involved in. Wood and metal can both transport us, and plastic and wood can both offer us a place to sit.