Haiku

 

Grey whispers steal light,

Trees fade, shapes melt in the white,

World hushed; secrets kept.

Georgia - Jan 2024

The Horizontal Forest of Middle Village

 

I came upon this curious annual horizontal forest at Juniper Valley Park while meandering through this oasis from city life the other day. It is a curious forest that grows up upon the cement tiles along the West side of 80th St. as the road transverses the park. There are Douglas Firs and Blue Spruce, Pine Trees and many other species. Some are 12 feet long while others are only two feet high, but they are all the discarded remains of the holiday season still exuding a strong evergreen aroma. Most are bound holding their limbs down as if they had been kidnapped and some are covered in a plastic bag to stifle their protesting cries of abandonment. Some still have ornaments that had hidden themselves away from those who stripped the trees of their ornaments and finery. Occasionally tangled tinsel that ostentatious cousin of common Easter basket grass can be observed that usually dance together around vacuum spindles after the two holidays pass. One small tree even has a tree stand still attached! All the trees look lonely and forlorn after having been the center stage of joy and celebration during the holiday season, only to be discarded like last year's fashions. Twenty-five million of the comely conifers lie cold and bored waiting for their future to be revealed in similar temporary forests all over the country. I wish I could explain to them that they have nothing to fear as they will be grounded up and seeded through parks and gardens as mulch to enrich Mother Earth and be intimately involved in the rebirth of spring.

Jim-Jan '24

Bird TV

 

I live on the third floor and have a wonderful view of trees and buildings and cars and sun. There are tons of birds around, sparrows, starlings, pigeons, crows, geese and an occasional seagull. Seagulls don’t come around much because they are scavengers and head toward the garbage heaps about four miles from here.

Geese and crows eat worms and bugs and don’t like bread too much.

Pigeons are fat and lazy and keep themselves at train stations and odd cement squares that separate forks in the road.

So we are left with sparrows and starlings mostly. There are so many in the winter and less in the spring because in the spring there are loads of tasty bugs to be had.

It is now winter and these little fat birds are hanging around in abundance on the wires and posts and roof tops outside my window.

I get around to feeding these marvels at seven in the morning. At least fifty birds are waiting and another twenty five stop by after the initial feeding frenzy for crumbs on the sidewalk and whole pieces on the windowsill.

Out the window I throw at least eight cut up slices of bread every day in winter for my birdy friends, then I shut the window tightly. Bird TV has begun. My two kitties’ arrange themselves like statues in front of the window and I sipping tea sit at my table and watch the show.

Bobbing and weaving and fighting and cooperating birds muscling around for their fair share of free bread. The kitties try and pounce at the chubby and plump starlings. After realizing they can’t get through the window they sit and watch.

This is our everyday morning routine. Me and my two cats and a show of feathers, wings, little legs and beaks. Brown and black and gold and yellow colors.  Chirping voices remind me of the freedom to fly, the hardships overcome and willingness to be brave.

For as long as I live here I will feed my bird friends every day and enjoy their entertainment. Tweet, tweet, chirp, chirp.

Georgia

Music and Love

 Writing Prompt:

Write the beginning of a new story in which a fictional character falls in love with the help of music.

In the cacophony of the city existed an unpredicted tune that will bring two strangers together.

In his daily mundane routine Oliver became aware of smooth background jazz of Dave Brubeck. Brubeck’s “Take Five” was sweeping and dancing through the air.

It was raining as he stopped at the coffee shop. This was part of his usual routine and habit. He sat at a table looking around lost in thought.

The barista changed the entire energy of the coffee shop by playing “Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven. Oliver didn’t mind, he was winding down after a long day. The music unexpectedly resonated deep within.

As he was glancing around, he noticed an attractive young lady. Becca was engrossed in reading at the corner table not noticing Oliver. To Oliver she was familiar. He felt connected to her as if the music had invisible strings connecting them.

Each note became a love language, evoking vulnerability, a spell cast, and wordless words not yet spoken.

At the last chord Oliver found the courage to approach Becca. In this small coffee shop under awkward hellos, raindrops, cascading music, enchantment and mystery begins a serendipitous new love story for two solitary souls.

Georgia
Jan 2024

What I Learned About Apples

 

What I Learned About Apples

Written from a school grade point of view, although I didn't know this in 5th grade.

The crisp winter apple this crisp winter day.

Holds in its core an apple array 

Of traits and tastes, of tints and shapes 

Which the apple in my palm does not itself display. 

Each potential apple, each seed deep in its core,

Holds different heritage in its DNA store. 

The world in its multiplicity can make apples galore

Of reds, greens, and yellows I really adore.

The flavors can vary from bitter to sweet

And each seed has a path it is destined to beat.

 

Not like its core-mates, not like its parent,

What the seed will become is not all that transparent.

The apple of knowledge, the apple of history,

It's hard to trace its genealogical mystery.

As I ruminate and munch, and savor the flavor,

for lunches and snacks, this fruit's just a life-saver.

Marsha

The Windy Weigh-In

 

As in grammar school when that sobering time came to file into the classroom to find out whether the student had truly been paying attention, taking good notes, doing their own homework and studying diligently, it was time for the final exam, or in this case of a Weight Watchers meeting, The Weigh-In. During the winter months, in preparation for this sobering event, light summer clothing was generally worn under the necessary heavy winter coats, hats, gloves and scarves. All were deposited on the chosen folding chair, as wallets change of a dollar, house keys and timepieces were discreetly tucked away in the tips of one’s shoes for the men or pocketbooks for the women.As with grammar school you could tell who had prepared for the day with the tell of an overly sunny disposition, a-lighthearted air, straining at the leash so to speak, eager to stand on the scale of reckoning, an earthly judgment day, as it were.Meanwhile those who had not been so diligent walked to the scale as if they were walking to the electric chair, having been seduced by the exhaust of a bakery on their weekly sojourns or sauntering down the cookie aisle of their local supermarket with Velcro tipped gloves!

 

            Everyone was hungry having been good on the previous day, not unlike cramming for the final exam. I waited patiently in line until my turn came for that moment of truth.I stepped gingerly on the scale and as the machine calculated I was amazed to find out that I had just left the 15% club my code word before being under 300 lbs. I felt as light as a feather as I stepped off the scale to a throng of congratulatory exclamations by the Weight Watchers representative and my peers! I was proud that I had stuck to my objectives for the week. After the meeting ended, we all made our way to the exits and filed into the parking lot behind the Metro Mall as the M train was pulling out of Metropolitan Avenue Station, to the left. Just then a huge gust of wind no longer blocked by the train game streaming across the wide-open parking lot, and I was lifted off the ground and up into the air, floating away from my compatriots as they struggled to catch me as I ascended over the parking lot. Everyone on the ground looked amazed as I floated away, and some faces seemed congratulatory while others seemed annoyed that this was some excessively ostentatious trick of showy bravado. There was no trick and I could not explain the situation as I floated over the BJ's tire center then Christ the King High School,All Faiths Cemetery South and then across Metropolitan Ave into All Faiths Cemetery North where I eventually grabbed hold of the top tree branches pulling myself down to the tree trunk and climbed back down to Terra firma. I immediately searched for and put a large rock in each of my coat pockets so that this unfortunate incident would not be repeated in the future. In retrospect I have recently read a quote by the contemplative Buddha stating that “If you wish to fly give up everything that weighs you down “.

 

                                                                                                                               Jim-Jan 24’

Old Friend

 

I have one friend from childhood. We met when I was 15 and he was 17. We used to play guitar and piano together. His family was wonderful. His voice was like velvet. We had tons of fun and we were a couple for two years. He went his way and I went mine.

We reconnected a few years later and the same thing happened.

It’s really strange because for the following years we ran into each other often. We could not get away from each other. We couldn’t be a couple for unknown reasons. But we always kept in touch with each other.

When his Mom passed away, we reminisced about how we all used to sing together. I said my goodbyes to this wonderful lady who really welcomed me.

Every year at Christmas we exchange Christmas cards and each year my dear friend would burn a CD for me of old movies and Jazz music and other subjects we were always interested in. One year he sent me an old VCR tape of us at his house on Christmas. I cried when I saw this. We were so happy.

This year I got my Christmas card with a CD and the only words on the card were “It’s been a rough year.”

I do keep in touch with his sister too and she said that my friend is suffering with back problems, blood problems and some other dangerous stuff. My friend does not want to need my help because he has a support system.

We don’t run into each other anymore. We have chosen to remember all the good times, the conversations, the connection we had in these past five decades.

I guess that is how it is when you finally get old enough to realize how much you really loved each other and how it is too late to have a life together.

I will always remember my dear friend and if we are lucky perhaps, we will meet in the afterlife.

Georgia