I brandish my brain and confer with the night,
assiduously, wait for new thoughts to bite.
I go fishing for words that will serve as the bait
as what I am thinking I try to relate.
Floating on dreams, I troll their broad sea.
As I fish in them, I’m fishing in me.
Pulling out words from the seas where they ride
bright flashes of light that bring them topside.
Who knows what deep currents wash shores of insight
unless we cast nets to draw them to light?
In our forgotten midnights, their legions are teeming.
We must troll their dark depths for these riches of dreaming.
The lush waters of night invite interruption.
They do not view our hooks as corruption.
We’re their reason for being. They are food for our thought.
We cast lines in their depths that we may be taught.
For the Sunday Stills Challenge: White.
Invisible patterns are there, nonetheless,
and they are what write my poems, I confess.
That’s why they’re birthed without any strain
and what brings me back again and again
as a surrogate mother for verses and stories
that repeat life’s foibles, beauties and glories.
Varied in humor and import and skill,
they may display failure or conquest or will.
Some may tell truth and others small lies.
They instigate laughter or irrigate eyes.
But however, once birthed, my expressions may fare,
they were there all the time–right out in the air
for anyone to arrange or abuse them.
I’m just the one who elected to use them.
Lying in the hammock, searching for my words,
I come up with nothing, so I consult the birds.
They lift up off my trees to circle in a ring
as though they’re reconnoitering every single thing.
Swooping to partake of swirling clouds of gnats,
eying all my fruit trees, teasing both the cats,
who, crouched up on the roof, dream culinary wishes—
far above their heads, those tiny feathered fishes
far out of their reach, but so mesmerizing that
they far exceed temptation of squirrel or of rat.
Cats find bird movements insolent, drifting high up there.
Such an outrê thing to do, floating in the air!
This rebuttal to an anti-vaxxer by Marilyn Armstrong makes a sound argument.
I wanted to publish this exchange because it’s a good example of why I dislike anti-vaxxers. They have beliefs based on out-of-context data and a lack of scientific and factual testing. Their “opinions” don’t merely endanger them, their family and friends, but everyone who comes near them.
It’s one thing to distrust big pharma for over-pricing necessary medication or horticulturists who create super fast-growing seeds that make food less tasty and wipes out smaller farms that produced better food in smaller crops. To distrust vaccinations which have saved entire generations from the horrors of smallpox and polio — among other things — is not an alternative view. It’s fear and rumor-mongering. It isn’t based on science or research. It’s fear reaching out.
Yes, you can have a reaction to the shots. Garry is having one today…
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I’m not quite sure this is what Nancy had in mind, but check out her link above for a gorgeous photo.