Nosegay
The faint trace
of ashes and cardamom
sing in the air
you used to pass through.
They fit into my memory
in their accustomed places,
your aroma lingering
years longer
than the touch of you.
The prompt today is faint.
Click on any photo to enlarge all:
Today I’ve been a lazy passenger as Forgottenman has driven us from Alabama through Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois and Missouri. In one 45-minute period, we crossed 4 rivers: the Cumberland, the Tennessee, the Ohio and the Mississippi and saw two huge dams––the Kentucky and Barclay—both TVA projects I had studied about in the sixth grade. We have gone from 77 degrees in Huntsville to 53 degrees and rain. We’ve seen 13 dead deer along the interstate and over a dozen stalled cars as well as countless huge tire strips from semis—more than I’ve ever seen in a day of travel before, although Forgottenman thinks that is about par for the course.
The trees of every size, shape and variety as well as every hue of green, gold, yellow, red and brown have been spellbinding in their beauty. I don’t know that I’ve ever taken a ride through an autumn landscape this varied and extensive. Would that skies had been sunny and clear, but nonetheless, it has been a wonderful ride. In a little over an hour, we’ll be home and I can share photos of my day. Until then, I’m gritting my teeth on this rain-slickened two-lane road with no shoulders and fairly heavy traffic. Forgottenman is a good driver and “Mother,” our GPS, has not led us astray so far, although I must admit she has in the past.
Now that it is nearly dark, the traffic has thinned and the puddles on the road deepened. I can hear the water splashing against the undercarriage, as though we are driving through a car wash. Bug splashes on the front window that I’ve been trying to shoot photos around all day have been abolished by heavy rain and windshield wipers, but too late, too late. A stiff neck slowly Improved over the past two days again starts to seize up in the tension over oncoming car lights, unceasing rain and deepening puddles.
I’m glad I’m not driving and glad a good driver is, although I am wishing he was not using the cruise control. We’ve had this discussion before with me maintaining that it should not be used in rainy weather, he insisting this is an old wives tale. Since I am neither a wife nor old (in some eyes, namely mine) I reject once more his statement. But he is driving and so I surrender the argument in his favor, not because he is right but because he is driving.
Forgottenman is anxious to get home so he can look at a map to try to understand why Mother has directed us off Highway 62 onto this hilly, winding tiny two-lane road. More of a technophobe, I never go anywhere without a map along, but he is more trusting of the powers of technology to steer him aright, in spite of a number of experiences in which she hasn’t. In less than an hour, all mysteries will be revealed. In the meantime, I’m going to close my eyes and pretend I’m anywhere other than where I am.
Ha!! Finally home seven hours after we started out from Huntsville. We unloaded the car in a light drizzle, thankful for the fact that it isn’t the heavy rainfall of the past few hours. Cold wet grass made us grateful for a dry carpet and relatively warm house inside, as well as Wifi and electricity so I can post this message. We had a wonderful time with old friends but there is no place like home.
Cee’s questions for the week:
Would you rather take a 2 week vacation with an organized tour or take a cruise of your choice? I’d rather take an unorganized tour–going where I wished to.
Did you like swinging as a child? Do you still get excited when you see a swing? I lived across from the playground for my entire growing up years. I loved swinging and hearing the sounds of the swings across the street when I was at home lying in bed or in the grass.
What is the most important thing that you ever learned ? (I bet it’s not something you learned in school) It is wise not to say everything you think and to think about everything you say.
What inspired you or what did you appreciate this past week? Feel free to use a quote, a photo, a story, or even a combination. See above!! And, there will be more tomorrow.
For Cee’s Share Your World prompt.
Universal Cure
For all the world’s diseases and all life’s little ills
they’ve been inventing medicines, elixirs, syrups, pills.
But those crafty bacteria, viruses and germs
keep running on ahead of us as we come to terms
with ways to counteract them. They’re crafty little mites
who somehow slip inside of us through food or air or bites.
So in spite of all our science—our test tubes and our beakers,
all that malevolent mini-world just don their little sneakers
and keep on evolving a little bit ahead.
Enough to keep us sneezing or roiling in our bed.
And as for a panacea—a cure to conquer all—
although you have not asked for it, still I’ll make a call.
I’m rather sure that there will never be a
panacea.
The prompt is panacea.
The Day Cracked Open Like an Egg
The rain falls
fresh as cucumbers
on cobblestones and tiles,
the dust of summer
washed from crevasses
and curves of stone and clay.
The air is cleansed
of the scent of primavera,
jacaranda
and flamboyan trees
and the whole world
breathes easily again.
Clouds dried up
by sunlight,
the silent birds
are flushed
from their covering leaves
and open in chorus
to the booming crack
of cohetes, splitting the air
in celebration
of Saint John the Baptist
who has baptized all
this day.
Primavera and jacaranda are the names of colorful flowering Mexican trees. Flamboyan is the Spanish name for a royal poinciana tree. Cohetes are very noisy aerial fireworks of the caliber of cherry bombs. This is a rewrite of a poem written two and a half years ago. The prompt today is egg.
Almost Ready to Stand-in
If I had a bit more moxie,
I’d be Kardashian by proxy.
I’d be less studious, more frocksie
and trade these garments long and boxy
for a mini dress that’s foxy,
wear heels less Oxfordy and soxy,
hang out with girls named Tess or Roxie,
more cool and definitely less poxy.
I’d be a cockette of the walksie!
The prompt today is proxy.
No time to write this morning as we are heading out to Alabama to visit (coincidence) my good friends and former next-door-neighbors in Mexico. Yay Tony and Allenda!!! In lieu of fresh words, here are three old posts that dealt with neighbors:
https://judydykstrabrown.com/2016/06/21/companionshi/
https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/12/10/flight-of-fortune/
https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/12/02/vecinoscees-fun-foto-challenge/
The prompt today is neighbors.
Unlove Spell
For relief from suffering and a cure for love,
pluck a feather from a dying dove.
Press the feather in a hemlock crotch,
then fill a cauldron with his favorite scotch.
Wait for dark and stormy weather
to stew the hemlock crotch and feather.
Then add as listed all given below,
stirring steady with flame turned low.
First you write your lover’s name
twelve times and then once again.
Shred this page of caustic prose
with a thorn you’ve pried from a withered rose.
Add the paper, shred on shred,
recalling what he’s done and said.
Cast in the pot, till your mind is freed,
each slight recalled, each dreadful deed.
Add a patch you’ve torn from his favorite chair
and a single strand of his pubic hair,
wedding pictures of Niagara,
nose trimmers, hair dye and Viagra.
Add his hernia girdle and knee-length socks,
his shoes, his T-shirts and his jocks.
Cut all his pants off at the knees
and add them to his soggy T’s.
Stir the cauldron round and round.
If music’s playing, turn up the sound.
Sing along to the lyrics of
song after song of broken love.
“Don’t come home a cheatin’ with a lovin’ on your mind.”
Let these lyrics fill your thoughts—or others of their kind.
Ring up his mother on the phone. Say what he’s done to you.
Record her comments, rip out the tape, and add it to the brew.
Call all his girlfriends, all his buddies, everyone on your block.
Tell them that he’s impotent and has a little cock.
Write a note of what you’ve done and tape it to the pot.
Turn off the flame. Walk out the door. Forget the whole damn lot!!!
This is a rewrite of a poem written 5 years ago, but the image is new. I didn’t notice until after I’d taken this photo how appropriate the name of the pot was!!! The prompt today was simmer.
