Children’s Voices Blessed Noises

Noise

Asian Dragon 3 marked for Word Press March 2018
Four children played a game, “Dragons and Hunters”. Some were Dragons swiftly flying arcs in the kitchen. And they swooped, both arms outstretched as powerful wings, claws at-ready. Dragons snarled imaginary fangs and unleashed bursting fire in puffing breaths.

Fearless Hunters hurled challenges at the Dragons and tossed their make-believe lassos at the flying beasts. Dauntless Hunters pursued their prizes and bragged of the fame they should have as Dragon Riders. Oh, such glory gleamed in their shining faces.

The circular chase and mayhem was thunderous in the children’s imaginary world of flying beasts and brave pursuers. The noise levels rose to the roof when the Hunters cornered the Dragons.

An older woman, a grandmother, finely dressed for an evening gala shushed them, “Such noise, be still, your mother will go deaf.”

The children knew to do as told.

“Children’s noises,” the Grandmother scoffed at their game; she was senior mother after all.

“Children are only little for a short time. I will miss children’s voices when they grow up then leave home.”

“I said noise.”

“I know. I chose a better word.”

Lemuel

2018

 

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The Best Course, Meander

Meander

bike-bicycle.jpg

My best course of life has been to meander when my opportunity is open. Straight lines make efficiency. Parallel lines never meet. A meander is like a quilt. I stitch my trail one alley, one street, one dumpster at a time.

I like a double-back-on-itself lolling course be it a walk in the woods or gallery crawl. I was known as the “kid who meanders” rolling along unhurried on the big red shiny Raleigh bicycle. If anyone in town wanted to know what was happening on the “side streets” and down the “alleys” they could get the low-down directly from the horse’s mouth. I usually charged a nickle for the advice. Services rendered.

Up street, down avenue, over alley. Turn, turn, turn, repeat. Stop by the park. Get some funky frozen yogurt. Visit front porch neighbors holding forth from rocking chairs and vintage citizen philosophers solving all problems, their AM-radio on “the ballgame”, freshly painted yard furniture. Shade tree Stoics. Solidly civic and full of pronouncements for young people who would listen and I listened. In bright sun and in haze I rode. Taking my time.  “Be home before the street lights shine,” meaning dusk not when a thunderstorm broke.

In good weather I meandered. When it rained I jumped in puddles. The best course is really the one when you make your opportunities.

Little did I know at the time I was preparing to be amazed, practicing discovery, pushing back the edges of the unknown. Embrace the unknown.

 

 

Suddenly Prose

Suddenly

Adverbs are one of the spices of life, a word like “suddenly” is so serviceable in prose.

Suddenly reminds me of a bird story that plays out regularly. I am a most irksome neighbor. Given the passel of dove that loves my yard I so often damage their calm and send them into full throttle emergency dove take off. The scene is a blur of color; they explode into the air, and make that tinkling bell sound as they gain altitude.  Off they roar into the protective branches of a pine tree still within sight of me, their heads bobbing, they eyeball me guardedly.

I have not become accustomed to their surprising aerial escapes nor have I stopped being amazed at how suddenly they forget all the bother from a few seconds ago. I hastily scatter some food and I disappear, then, they return, land, and un-scatter, perhaps still wary, and suddenly make the dove chow disappear from the grass.

pexels-photo-203088.jpegSuddenly tells how something is accomplished.  Suddenly soup is just not in my DNA. I admit one thing is better done quickly. Sticky bandages adhering to my mammalian skin I am looking at you.

I love slow brewed tea. I would be confused if sunsets were suddenly over. Floodwater suddenly receding from my door is fabulous.

Telling how something gets done is made suddenly easier by employing adverbs. Then, given a little time the other parts of speech can get to work and help the writer make something of meaning.