I saw this 8-inch-wide stone sitting up on the bench under the arbor in the lot I’m developing into a little park. This afternoon when Pasiano and Jose were planting the truckload of plants and trees and cacti that were delivered yesterday, I went down to trim a century plant and pick up a few months’ trash that they’ve left strewn around the site, and Pasiano pointed the stone out to me, saying he had found it on my lot. Jose was teasing him about it and Pasiano was making a joke of it, too, calling it “his art” but he was really pleased when I was enthusiastic about it and he gave it to me. I was curious about whether it was a piece of petrified wood or an unusual geological specimen, but when I decided to look closer tonight, I realized that the rings are all on the surface of the rock. I wish I had looked closer at the place where it is (sadly) broken in two before I glued it back together, as that would give the best view of a cross-section, but the rings do come to the edge in a couple of places and they don’t seem to go any farther into the rock than the surface, so I’m pretty sure it is a rock painting.
Now I feel like I need to ask him if he wants to keep it. Hope he sincerely says no! I think it is beautiful, and will give it a place of honor somewhere, and perhaps try to find out more about it. If anyone has any insight into what it may me, I’d appreciate your comments. Even guesses are welcome!
Lake Chapala, Jan 7, 2021. Click on photos to enlarge.
For Cee’s FOTD
Photo by Lynn
Lighthouse Point
A rocket shape
stabs the landscape,
white and stark.
But in the dark,
its road of light
cuts through the night.
Strong and sure,
confusion’s cure,
it guides the lost
and tempest-tossed
to safety’s shore,
the stuff of lore.
A beacon streaming,
bright and beaming,
guiding lost souls
past coral shoals
through froth and foam,
securely home.
I’m enlivened by my lineaments. They show where I have smiled.
Without them, I am sure my face would be too bland and mild.
It surely would be awkward if I had no tracks or lines.
A face would be so boring without channel marks or vines.
Wrinkles liven up a face. They show where it has been.
They tell what’s happened in one’s life, but don’t tell where or when.
They leave up to mouths and hands to embellish the story
with details more specific—more romantic, funny, gory.
Your face is the epitome of how you’ve lived your life.
It shows the tracks of pleasures, of sadness and of strife.
Without the stories that they tell, there’d be no place to look
anywhere on your body to read you like a book!
Word prompts today are lineament, epitome, awkward and liven.
Zoo Snafu
When first he thought he’d try to woo,
he took his date out to the zoo.
He paid her way and opened doors,
protected her from wild boars
that were, of course, all kept in cages,
viewers safe from all their rages.
Nonetheless he fantasized
that his date must be surprised
at his bravery and daring-do
as demonstrated at the zoo.
Later on, he thought it best
that they should have a little rest.
To fuel them for their promenade,
bought hot dogs, fries and lemonade,
then found a bench and sat them down
somewhere near to monkey town.
He found a napkin and tucked it in
somewhere between her neck and chin,
daubed mustard from her upper lip,
Oh, he was gallant, polite, hip!
Then, after they had had a rest
he thought perhaps it would be best
to resume their stroll to view
the llamas and the kangaroo.
When they loitered for awhile
‘tween hippos and the crocodile,
he thought it might not be remiss
to try to steal a little kiss.
And self-assured she wouldn’t mind,
he worried about just what kind.
Should it be passionate or peck?
Oh her lips or on her neck?
Would it be a sin of remission
not to ask for her permission?
And should his hands go high or low?
How was a kiss-rookie to know?
So, in the end, he shook her hand
between the gnu and the eland.
Then they resumed their galavanting—
monkey, lion, elephanting—
Better not to act in haste.
Thus this first date, alas, was chaste.
Click on photos to enlarge.
Here is the link for the Zoom launch for The Poeming Pigeon’s Pop Culture Edition. I have two poems in the book and I’m reading at the 22 minute mark. Please overlook my flubs!!! Judy
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 