The Cat and Sea Gulls.

The Cat,
called, simply that
sits, literally, on the mat.
She meows up a treat
more interested in meat.
digs holes in my old legs
rubs against the rail's pegs
and a garden gnome
is her love at home.
She just needs a little bell,
but it will be a hard sell.

The sea is calm again today.
No wind to toss and sway
the tall palm tree down the way.
Seagulls are gulling
I'm sitting here mulling
about the future culling
of things I never would;
I've attracted old and new wood
that when polished smells so good.

Downsizing isn't quite it.
Letting go of just a little bit
of clothes that still sit
on the shelves untouched.
It's not a job one can rush.
There's even movies unwatched.
I bet there are millions who would say
"I wish I had your problems." Anyway ...
The gulls have found supper today.
While Granny hides chocolates away.

Love and Light.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The 0006 Post - Depression and Unexpected Consequences

So, here we are again. Keeping score of the mind, tracing the lines that are invisible to the eye, but essential, just the same. They tell me I am ill.  I am quite sure that if the medicine becomes unavailable I shall probably start going down the hill much like our go-cart in White River did, in 1950-something, which the young Shangan lads built with great skill and efficiency except they did not feel the need, or perhaps did not know how to design a steering or a brake mechanism.  When it went too fast or headed for rocks or tree trunks we all jumped off the racing tree product with glee, yelling and laughing all at once.  Yelling is something I have done. Once.  I do not wish to have that happen again. "Where are you going?" He asked. "China." We are all fraught with unexpected emotions.  It is not enough that our bloodlines bleed out, but the world, all the countries of the world, have to add to the worrisome ideas and conclusions that run about the chan
Read more

JORDAN PETERSON, 12 RULES FOR LIFE

Image
I can't resist the bookshop.  It has taken the library's place.  Three copies of Jordan Peterson's book lie on the shelf with a slight discount.  I bought them all.  Why not?  Someone is going to need to read it before long. I am poised to go off into a spiritual retreat where I shall cleanse my soul, uplift my soul and come out rising on the wings of eagles, I think HaShem missed Job, so He created me.   That's okay. I'm down with Job.  I have the patience of Job and his bloody opponent, dogging my heels, but no matter.  I cling to the Creator. For future reference, my eyes are bad and I sometimes plonk in a comma when I mean a period, and sometimes, for safe measure, I give you both.  My dyslexia prevents me from picking it up when I write in the lamplight, which is not great, but my autism doesn't like bright lights.  It is what it is. Giving everything over to HaShem is, or can be, difficult.  I have good moments and bad moments, I confess, but I a
Read more

Depression ~ 0004. My Woman's Month~ In search of Kate Spade.

When a woman makes it to CNN, and one has never heard of her, one must, "Go find!" As the lad says. One Story. The main road begins on top of a hill with a set of traffic lights. It slides down, ending in a serpent's tail-curl called, The Point. The speed limit is 40 Km/hr up the narrow road through town until midway up the hill leading to the serpent's head, the traffic lights, to finish the metaphor. To my left, a grey car ascends the hill. To my right, a big old truck edges towards the red traffic lights and hopes it will turn green. It doesn't. The truck stops. I judge the distance and speed of the grey car.  The light changes. The truck releases the brakes. I drove into the truck's lane.  The just moving truck changes gears.  He expects I shall move. We are on the same page, the truck and I. I turn to check the grey car. The driver inexplicably speeds up. The truck is coming closer too fast, but I can't risk jumping in front of the elderly
Read more