The Waltz of the Trees

 

It was all the talk of the forest as the squirrels were huddling in their dens dishing dirt or at least observations as to what they had seen. Walnuts, pine nuts and chestnuts were generously shared with the Weasels, Stoats, Chipmunks and Ferrets all in exchange for intelligence.

The Bucks discussed it in their annual rut all the while smashing antlers to sort out their hierarchical dominance. Bobcats whispered to Mountain Lions; Badgers compared notes with Beavers. Cave bats hung around with Possums discussing these most interesting current events. In fact, the whole forest was alive with information about the upcoming annual event colloquially known as the Waltz of The Trees. This was a secret occasion only spoken of in close company with discrete friends and trusted acquaintances.

Mother Nature had cast a spell so that the trees could uproot themselves and bundle their roots discreetly in their lowest bows purposely moving forward to arrive in time for the event. This spell extended till well after the event ended so that all attendees would have ample time to return to their homes. Even the location was a secret, although one with keen powers of observation could surmise where it was to be held, as an unusually large number of Beavers had assembled in a certain meadow about a week before the big day, busily cutting, chomping, gnawing and dragging dead timbers around in an attempt to create spaciousness and comfort for the invited guests.

This was quite unlike a human dance where all the guests arrived in limousines and sporty cars leaving for their destination a short while before their arrival .By contrast one could see deciduous trees and evergreens moving for days and even weeks, proceeding towards the site, some even throwing themselves in rivers to shorten the journey on this annual pilgrimage. One could smell the upturned earth as the massive trees moved through the forest. As the date arrived the perimeter of the meadow became more and more crowded with a dense forest of different species socializing with other species that they rarely encountered in their natural habitats. The Banyans bandied about, the Ficus formulated, Ashes articulated while Maples mumbled, and Elms enunciated. The brooks babbled on about the event with the streams, tributaries, pools and lakes. The fish, deep in their pools, delighted to think of all the unusual, tasty residents of the ponds that would be flushed out by all this movement to make scrumptious delicacies for the cocktail hour. The birds of prey, all on best behavior, surveyed the area gliding high above, making sure that pests such as termites and invasive beetles knew that they were not welcome. Eagles, Hawks and Falcons all cooperating collectively and symbiotically secured the site for their benefactors who throughout the year provided a home and sustenance for all the creatures of the forest.

Finally, the day had arrived. The festivities opened with shooting stars making cameo appearances, even a comet swung by sputtering sparks from its tail followed by the last of the summer fireflies putting on an impressive aerial display dancing with multicolored butterflies. The devotions of the praying mantises were answered as it was a beautiful clear night, and all the stars came out for the show. One by one each deciduous leaf bearing tree made a grand entrance in all the beautiful colors of fall with their roots neatly gathered and bunched discreetly out of the way. Magenta, scarlet, mahogany, lemon, lime, aqua and forest green were some of the colors displayed. Evergreens stately and conservatively dressed in their dark green tuxedos advanced on schedule towards their deciduous partners to dance the night away. Soon the clearing was full of the pairs dancing to the music of the orchestra which consisted of ants playing acorn lid cymbals, while beetles bongoed on hollowed out acorns and grasshoppers, crickets, birds and bees all blended in an enchanted arrangement to create the Symphony of the Night. All three forest environments were represented the Temperate, the Tropical and the Boreal or Taiga from frozen climes. Scarlet Oaks Swung, Deciduous leaf bearers Discoed, Conifers County Danced, Walnuts Waltzed, while Douglas Firs  Foxtroted, Pines pirouetted, and Willows wobbled but did not weep as that Tiagan trees Tangoed, enjoying this comparatively warm weather. From a birds-eye view the meadow was alive with movement swaying this way and that.

After many hours the moon waned and set in the east but not before waking up the sun to take over for the day shift. The trees danced till early afternoon until tired and spent they took long drinks in the stream before saying their goodbyes and returning home to dream of next year’s arboreal assembly.                                                   

Jim
Dec '22

Best Friend

 

Many years ago. my daughter and I were walking in our neighborhood when a young boy with a big box he could hardly handle came up to us and in a painfully excited way and asked us to look in the box.  

There it was, love at first sight, a tiny kitten with a black nose and tuxedo markings.  

We have had turtles, dogs, birds and fish, but never a kitty.  

His name was Roger, and he became our staunch and reliable friend. If tears were heard Roger ran to the rescue with head bumps and cuddles and licks on the head of the tearful one.  

If fever pursued the little ones, Roger wrapped his body on the feet of the afflicted one until the fever passed. 

If cuts and bruises came about, Roger would supervise treatment and dutifully stick by until the hurt one was on the mend.  

Roger would eagerly listen to woes and worries; well, what are friends for than to listen with a flick of the tail and without interruption.  

Faithful friend, always loving unconditionally, your little paws permanently pressed on our hearts. Your memory and joy never leaves us. 

Until we meet again dear, sweet, loyal, companion and confidant.  

Georgia

"Happiness"

Happiness does not have to be elusive. 

Happiness takes effort; here are some suggestions for the upcoming New Year. 

Have trustworthy friends. 

Good people that help you ascend. 

Eat nourishing food. 

Even if it’s chewed and puts you in a mood. 

Avoid news overdose. 

Give that junk an adios. 

Balance peaceful time with busy time. 

It is not a crime. 

Go on adventures. 

A rollercoaster is a clencher. 

Read a lot. 

Don’t let your mind go to pot. 

Listen to music 

Listen to whatever you want. 

Look for solutions. 

Not nasty pollutants. 

Watch your thoughts. 

Light your mind in kilowatts. 

Give yourself credit. 

You’re the best, there I said it. 

Get rid of stress. 

Put on a pretty dress. 

Contentment is yours 

If you take a pause 

Happy you will be 

by effort from thee

Georgia 

Happiness

 

The top of my list of things that will bring me happiness is written in the joy I see and the joy I get when I open my front door each morning. 

Appreciation, admiration, adulation, adoration, attachment, amatory, all words of love. What greater happiness can I want than the love from my feral Tabby cat. He is a stray, street cat who has fallen in love with me and the feeling is totally mutual. Sure, you say, " Why shouldn’t he love you? You feed him.” Wrong!!! My husband feeds him. But I’m the one who pets hm, fondles him and cuddles him. The romance I have with Tabby Boy (I named him) is recent and amazing. I have already written 3 negative complaining, critical essays about this “nasty, ferocious, terrible Tabby. This, my fourth is a whole turnaround about my delicious, adorable, lovable pussycat.

In the past, I had always felt mournful to have this pet that I couldn’t pet. Instead, with his extended sharp claws he would swat anyone who came too close causing torn hems and bleeding ankles. He appeared in my backyard one spring day last year as a fully formed adult feral tabby cat. He looked healthy, with his white bib and white shoes and stockings, well groomed. Where had he come from?  Did someone feed this outdoor cat? Did he ever belong to someone? Where does he go when it rains, when it snows, when it is freezing cold? His clipped ear tells me that he was neutered. How did anyone get near this rascal?

What changed this feral feline into his gentle, delightful lovable perfect gift? It all was a slow development, with all the action initiated by Tabby Boy. With the advent of summer weather, I spent much of the day in my backyard. Tabby always chose to be present and slowly he began rubbing up against my ankles. He set the pace and his curiosity led him to explore the effect of his rubbing against a human. Shortly, he allowed me to rub his head, his neck, his back. When I moved down to a step close to the ground, he then rubbed my arm, my hand. The rest is history. Now he felt trust and totally allowed cuddling. This appreciation, admiration, adulation, adoration and attachment are a mutual perfect gift and bring me great happiness.

Ethyl Haber

Sky Watching

 

I am an avid sky watcher. The indigo night sky, when the light pollution is low, surrounds the crystal white twinkling stars. During the day clouds of every shape drift swiftly or slowly depending on the wind. 

There is a time that is not mentioned often for perfect sky watching and that is the early morning. Five in the morning exactly. The moon has already drifted to the west dragging its companions Venus and Mars along.  

As I stick my head out the window the air is breathable, visibility is clear, stars are still bright and the birds are yet asleep.  

Once more, at five in the morning exactly, I am still and calm in majesty of the sky.  

 Georgia

"Time Travel" by Roland Park

Time is not so straightforward, it bends, it kinks 

There in the drop, the uptake - heartbreak 

They say Time Travel is only in movies 

They show us diagrams with straight lines 

But knowledge and memory aren’t they time? 

Instances with unknowable distances 

Whirling and churning and wild 

Always learning, always remembering. 

 

I was deeply moved by this poem because I understood that we time travel constantly, either consciously or unconsciously.  Though visually thinking about the future or wishing for the present to be different or magically thinking we can change the past. 

Never at peace about the future, tingling skin of the present and wildly obsessing about the past.  

Georgia

Wind Spell for Protection

 

She came home and just knew old enemies were around. How could it be? How did they find her? No time to ask questions. Time to resurrect her personal conjure powers.  

Written in an old book was the Wind Spell for Protection handed down from the ancestors. She was ready in quiet and dark and cold, she sat at the ancient oak table and laid out the preparation and read the barely visible words.  

I call on the wind gods with dragon’s blood lit by fire, lavender and salt to purify the air, fresh flowers as fresh perfume, and a glass of water to cool the earth.  

As I howl like a wolf the wind will blow.  (Howl like a wolf) 

As I caw like a raven the wind will blow. (Caw like a raven) 

As I bark like a dog the wind will blow. (Bark like a dog) 

I humbly ask for your protection against those who want to harm me and my family.  

Bind those who wish me harm let all bad wishes flutter away in your breeze.  

Thank you.  

It took barely eight hours and the enemies were hit with an unexpected hurricane and had to evacuate their shelter.  

The wind gods are good. No violence, no danger, the threat was gone. But for how long? 

Georgia

The Demonic Snarling Metal Demon of the Boulevard of Death

 

One person’s joy may certainly be another’s horror, as we are all neuronally wired differently along with varying genetically infused doses of courage. The Roller Coaster at Fairyland was a good example of these differences.

            The misleading term FairyLand conjures up images of an idyllic amusement park in some pastoral setting, nestled in some backwater, away from the noise and commotion of city life, but this was not the case with FairyLand, situated on the teeming, noisy, pollution sputtering Queens Boulevard! In later years this major thoroughfare would receive the honorific, horrific moniker The Boulevard of Death. The park was situated on the current sight of The Queens Center Mall across from the former St. John’s Hospital. Little did this naïve young visitor realize what lay ahead. The small park was minuscule by today’s standards, containing a Ferris Wheel, fire truck ride, a small arcade and miniature golf course along with a few other nondescript rides including that metallic and wooden demon from hell, The Fairy Coaster! With its hairpin thirty degree turns, insanely precipitous ascents of fifteen feet and equally treacherous plunges at a thirty-five-degree angle, riders threw caution to the wind, plummeting to earth at twelve miles per hour, risking life and limb on this rolling, rollicking, treacherous dance with death, presumably for enjoyment! I envisioned FairyLand as a secret government testing ground, an obstacle course, or recruitment center researching the limits of human endurance, searching America for the Best of the Best, the boldest devil may care courageous thrill seekers, ready to risk life and limb for eventual notoriety and fame in the NASA Space Program, being spun around at gravitational forces many times what their bodies were designed to withstand. As unsuspecting boys and girls frolicked innocently through the park with the sweet smells of cotton candy, hot dogs, buttered popcorn and crackerjack’s creating an intoxicating eau de parfum, they were presumably being put through their paces and observed and documented as potential recruits for, or unceremoniously rejected for not having the right stuff to enter the space program, our international political boxcar race to the moon with our then rival The Soviet Union. It was the only explanation I could conceive of as to why anyone would resort to climbing onto one of these contraptions for presumed enjoyment. Along with The Rack, Thumb Screws and the Iron Maiden, these devices would have been more appropriately implemented in the Dark Ages. Even at this early age I surmised that a career as a test pilot, or an astronaut was not in my future and there would be no rollercoaster bonding with my future offspring on one of these contraptions. Chuck Yeager’s poster was not on my wall! The Mercury Seven including John Glenn of the U.S. Marines, Alan Shepard, Walter Schirra and Scott Carpenter of the U.S. Navy along with Gordon Cooper, Gus Grissom and Deke Slayton of the U.S. Air Force would never have to worry about moving over to share the spotlight with me!                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                    Jim Nov 22’

The Wind of Autumn

 

As I step out to the wonders of the world, the wind of Autumn greets me, gently caressing my face like with a blush brush, brushing specks of dust lightly.  Walking a few blocks, I felt the wind of Autumn intensify, playing with my hair and moving it across my face.   I pulled my hair back, struggling with the wind as it was determined to style it across my face like a hairdresser.  In the middle of this nature styling, a crisp brown leaf landed, pinned on my head to adorn my natural hairstyle, and more navigating with the wind stamped my coat.  The brown leaves matched quite well with my yellow and brown scarf.  As I paraded down the street, it was like nature was designing a new look for me.

 

By Cristina Infante