Night. Under bed covers Moon visible through gauze
curtains. A sluggish stream supports me. Kersplash,
a fish. A whippoorwill’s call, a dream bird. Comfy.
Moored in the here and now like it or not. Like it.
Here it all makes sense.
Music Lesson
Jan 13th, 2021 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I can’t say for certain which music I’m enjoying more – Susumu Yokota’s Asian ambience on the laptop or the garden’s new water fountain concert.
Mr. Chipmunk, the gaudy flutterby, and the fledgling redwings all clearly prefer the fountain. And why wouldn’t they? What do they know about synthesizers, electronic percussion, or the meditative properties of fluid melody transformation? For them, the fountain’s water, singing its spontaneous aria, is life itself; is the music without which their lives—all lives—would cease to exist.
I reach out and tap the laptop’s mute.
Some creatures—most creatures—know far more than I.
From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette
Ron’s many published works, including his debut chapbook, Fallen Away, can be found HERE.
Quitting The Grave Cover ThumbCheck out Decater’s new novel, available now at Amazon. Plus, don’t forget his earlier books: Ahab’s Adventures in Wonderland and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.
IMPRISONED
Touch the little bugs in the garden
and they roll into tight balls.
The possum plays dead to the world,
and the turtle hides inside his cell.
And the man? Somebody is
in need of help, but he sits
there daring you to help,
a tough guy, inmate, con,
you name it.
His mama’s baby boy. But he
don’t need no help. Just sits
there, indifferent, on his bunk,
tough guy, all alone
in the crowded dorm.
His mama’s baby boy; tough
turtle doing troubled time.
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