Beauty is in the Technique

Too lazy to be ambitious, I let the world take care of itself. Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag; a bundle of twigs by the fireplace. Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment? Listening to the night rain on my roof, I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out! -Ryokan

Saint Gertrude Day!(a day late)

A Prayer to St. Gertrude, Patron Saint of Cats

Dearest Gertie, ask you I pray…

watch over the evil little cats…this and everyday.

Protect them from those who wish them ill.

Keep them at home…four tiny paws…safe from the snowstorm.

Give me the serenity to accept their indifference to me.

                the courage to be humble in their presence

and…     the wisdom to hide all breakables I wish to keep.

Protect my lawn furniture from the neighborhood Tom Cat.

And, Gert, a last thing I beseech from thee.

Please don’t let them kill me in my sleep.

-Amen

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Patron Saint of Cats…Sista Gert believed in her visions.  She believed in purgatory.  She believed…rodents, mice, etc., were handmaiden’s to hell’s highway.  The only way to rid the heavens and earth of this evil?  Cats!

Which as a cat owner, I can now understand.  Gert knew that there was a hell out there.  Possibly she had a ‘vision’ of where we now stand with Trump.  One thing led to another.  The ‘visions’ got worse.  Hell came in the form of rats.  And, Gert did not figure out until late in life…get a cat!

The cat solved the infestation.tumblr_p5qjeh6jca1rmxjpho1_540

So she chilled, as she grew older, with cats.

Hence Patron Saint of Cats!

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Clouds in the Puddles

Hanging head low.

Such as a bully bull and a retiring bovine would.

Oh, if I could only be…

As lax, as relax can be.

Faults in the pavement…could they be any less obtuse?

Subtracting and murky with no roots to withstand the decay.

Unfortunately, I am not four-legged and constantly at ease with my indifference.

I lack luster amid the earth that surrounds.

In a calf’s eyes from what can be deduced…

Ambivalence, the grandest prize.

If only to witness the reflection of clouds in puddles passing by.

 

Ode to a Cow

When life seems one too many for you, 
Go and look at a Cow. 
When the futures black and the outlooks blue, 
Go and look at a Cow. 
For she does nothing but eat her food, 
and sleep in the meadows entirely nood, 
Refusing to fret or worry or brood, 
Because she doesn’t know how.
Whenever you’re feeling bothered or sore, 
Go and look at a Cow, 
When everything else is a fearful bore, 
Go and look at a Cow. 
Observe her gentle and placid air, 
Her nonchalance and savoir faire, 
Her absolute freedom from every care, 
Her imperturbable brow. 
So when you’re at the end of your wits, 
Go and look at a Cow 
Or when your nerves are frayed to bits, 
And wrinkles furrow your brow; 
She’ll merely Moo in her gentle way, 
Switching her rudder as if to say: 
“Bother tomorrow! Let’s Live today! 
Take the advice of a cow!” 
##Farmer’s Almanac 1936
To Love A Cow?  To know…life is shorter on each end?  Mulling about in mother’s nature…knowing there is no need for pretense.  
Its large eyes, its calm, its matte skin tinted in a muted palette that runs from off-white to grey through beige and brown, its painterly silhouette with its signature hump, make it the most evolved of animals!
Mukul Kesavan

Chasing Tail

It had been a stormy night, late December, in Canterbury.  Winds were howling, dirt roads…one big pothole.

Ironic, my wife had just mentioned that morning how I…hadn’t had my eyes checked.  And, that possibly, just possibly, I should get that done…sooner than later.

Perhaps, I shouldn’t have told the story of seeing the biggest and heaviest, crows…flying over a hiking trail at the waterfalls.

And, perhaps I should have omitted the fact that these, clumsy, chubby, birds…turned out to be wild turkeys.coyote

During this recent early winter storm and being an animal lover…I had spotted a low to the ground stray dog.  After pointing out this poor, four legged soul to my wife.  I quickly jetted from the car to retrieve it.  And, of course, I would be the hero of the day.  Whistling and cooing the dog over to the car.  The dog seemed disheveled.  It seemed a little on the wild-side.  However, it was willing to come greet me.

Then as if a ship horn in the fog.  My wife honked the horn.  The poor creature shuffled back into the bramble.  Pissed off, I walked back to the car.  Strolled back only to be chastised.

“Are you crazy?  That was a fuckin’ coyote!”

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