Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Somebody

SOMEBODY cut my pancakes!” hollered Henry from across the table with his hair shooting up like fireworks.

“Wait just a moment, please,” answered his dad putting on his piggy slippers-Oinker and Oinkarina.

“I want SOMEBODY to cut them now!” shouted Henry with his outside voice while he licked his lips and drooled on his pancakes.

Somebody needs to be patient while SOMEBODY is cutting somebody else’s pancakes,” replied his dad practicing his patience.

Henry watched his dad help his little sister. He waited just a moment then yelled, “Will SOMEBODY cut my pancakes, NOW?” He was standing over his pancakes looking at them with big round hungry wolf eyes.

Henry’s dad took a deep breath then blurted out, “If somebody isn’t patient while SOMEBODY is cutting somebody else’s pancakes then somebody will have to wait an extra long time until SOMEBODY thinks the impatient somebody has learned to be patient,” answered his dad in a voice that was beginning to sound like an outside voice. Oinker and Oinkarina were tapping in frustration.

“But I want SOMEBODY now,” said the boy. His face was so close to his pancakes his eyelashes almost racked the syrup.

SOMEBODY will cut somebody’s pancakes, when somebody has asked nicely and waited patiently for SOMEBODY to finish,” said Henry’s dad. His face was red like Oinkarina's the rosy red cheeks, and his voice was definitely an outside voice.

“But,” began Henry.

Somebody needs to wait his turn,” screeched his dad scratching his messy head. The pigs were really moving now. They were dancing a jig.

Somebody who?” asked Henry.

“The Somebody is the Somebody asking SOMEBODY to cut the pancakes, and the SOMEBODY being asked is waiting for Somebody to ask nicely.”

“I WANT MY PANCAKES CUT NOW! WILL SOMEBODY HELP ME?!?”

“Ugh! Will somebody please wait?” exclaimed Henry’s red-faced dad waving his arms in the air. He looked like a rooster with a fork.

SOMEBODY sure is taking his time.”

The pigs stopped dancing their jig. Henry’s dad took a deep breath. “Okay…I’m ready.”

“YESSSSSS! HURRAY! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You make the best pancakes in the whole world, dad.”

“Thank you, Henry. You’re welcome.”

“Wow Dad, you sure were cranky. Your face was red and your pigs sure were moving. Somebody needs to teach you how to smile in the morning.”

Somebody just did.”

SOMEBODY get me some milk…MILK please!” shouted Henry.

“Ugh!”  The pigs leapt into the air!

The End

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

I Saw a Tree

DRAFT #2

It was early morning.
The birds hadn’t begun to sing
And the wind was still a whisper.

A tree stood alone on the middle of a hill.
The leaves were a dark gentle green.
They were quiet and seemed thoughtful
Maybe protective and stoic.

Then, like honey, the sun spread out over the sloping field.
Its warmth slowly rolled down the hill,
Filling the earth like a golden ocean tide.
Sunlight slowly soaked the leaves
Giving them something sweet and good.

The quiet contemplative dark green inside
was overcome by the radiance of the leave’s edges
As they were illuminated by the sun.
The leave’s tips were like green fire contrasted by
A mysterious deeper green tenderness.

Because of the sun,
The tree became the centerpiece.
It was more than a silent presence
In the early morning hours.
It transformed the quiet
And made the birds sing.

I noticed the ridgeline above it,
where the hill meets the sky
And expectations rise,
But my eyes were captivated
To the simple middle.
Where, I saw a tree.



DRAFT #1

A tree stood alone on the middle of a hill.
A canvas slope overshadowed it
and a majestic peak rose above it.
The tree was surrounded in quiet.
It looked slightly cold, alone, and content.

It was early morning.
The birds hadn’t begun to sing
And the wind was still a whisper.
The leaves of the tree
Were a dark gentle green.

Then, the sun spread out over the sloping field.
Its warmth rolled down the hill,
filling the earth with a honey ocean tide.
Sunlight slowly soaked the leaves
giving something gold, sweet, and good.

The quiet contemplative dark green inside
was overcome by the radiance of the leave’s edges
as they were caught by a luminous sun.
The leaves tips were like green fire contrasted by
a mysterious deeper green tenderness.

A single leaf detached and was awash in sunlight.
It was lost and overwhelmed
against a brilliant blue sky of complete freedom.
It will float away, dry, and then fade
until it vanishes back into the earth.

I noticed at the ridge line above,
where the hill meets the sky
and expectations rise.
But my eyes were captivated
To the simple middle.

I saw a tree.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Something More and the Day They Met

She stood at the edge of the sea.
She saw herself out there--
Alone and quiet, barren, and flat;
A blue dessert shimmering far into the distance
Where no land or tree, or protrusions rise.

She understood it.
Desolate, cool, quiet, lowly, and alone
Traveling farther than she will ever walk toward a destination,
But not further than she will walk in a lifetime.
The sea moved quietly up the shore trying to touch more,
Extending beyond its mass outward to vulnerable edges.
Then just as quietly, it ebbed in small movements
Comfortable and contained although not predictable.
It could roar and rage against the shore or traveling vessel.
But mostly it lays down flat, quiet, and sleepy.

Standing in the sea she saw her feet nestled into the sand
Twinkling from the light and the movement of water.
Beneath, she realized, was a world of more dimensions.
The sea gave something more than its quiet flatness.
Tall mountains peak higher and valleys dive deeper.
They are not seen, heard, or completely understood.

In the depths of the unseen quiet, she realizes, is something more.
Beneath the barren blue sea is life --
Full and thick,
dark and bright,
warm and cold,
and terrifying.
It is thicker than the air she breathes and the world she lives in.
She saw her reflection and hoped someone brave would jump in.
He saw the sea in her eyes, so he did.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Fireflies

I was having one of those melancholy days when the sky was gray, it was cold and getting dark the follow thought came into mind:

Emotions are like fireflies in the dark. They are bright, beautiful, delicate, and difficult to grasp. They illuminate where they land, but they are never safe. They remain elusive and in flight to escape the grasp of a predatory reasoning that interprets them as weak, worthless and too whimsical to value. If caught, their little dead bodies will be set adrift in the wind under a dark lifeless sky.

To rescue them, I quickly run in the dark tripping over stones and logs to bottle them up to keep them safe. A large jar holds a handful circling wonderfully and glowing brightly. I awake in the middle of the night. It’s dark. I saved them and hid them away only to find them suffocated. I open the jar then the window. I set their bodies adrift in the wind.