This is for today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt: vista. The other night was such a beautiful sunset. I felt guilty last night going to bed without going down for the sunset….
more sunset
This is for today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt: vista. The other night was such a beautiful sunset. I felt guilty last night going to bed without going down for the sunset….
I was trying to remember the name of this poem the other day. Then I put up the rose picture and remembered. I wrote this in or before 2009.
Caged
She was raised in captivity
Wild one
With her family
They knew the ways
Of the captors
Obedience
The call
Of the wild
Was too strong for her
She strained at the lead
Ears cocked
Hearing
All
And distant calls
Those who were free
She was beaten
Shunned
Thrown in solitary
They told her the rules
Over and over
She fought
Lacerating her captors
And herself
Her family
Wearied
Turned their heads away
Chained
She mourned
Isolated
They didn’t watch her
Closely
Any more
She chewed off her paw
Free
They didn’t notice
She growled
When they came near
They threw the meat
From a distance
Her cubs circled
Behaved
To all appearances
“When, mother?” they whispered
She mourned
As the leg healed
Her gait became stronger
The cubs and she
Ran at night
While others slept
At last she tried once more
Mourned
Howled
Cried to the sky
Grief
Pain
And the call of the wild
The family cringed
Pressed their ears
To stop the noise
She rose
And broke the chain
On the cage
That held them
Howled
They turned away
Cowering
In the familiar
Now she rises
Turns
Trots from the compound
Cubs behind
She sets a steady pace
A loping gallop
They do not look back
Someday
The family may choose
To free themselves
But not now
She follows the voices
To freedom
And the unknown
Ok, who is this fierce woman?
It is not me.
It is not my daughter.
It is a relative.
It is not my mother.
It is not my grandmother.
I have pictures of all of these women with that expression.
This is Mary Robbins White, my grandmother’s mother.
This is the line of women: mother to daughter all the way down.
What is passed from mother to daughter and mother to son? Besides the fierce expression?
Mitochondria. The mitochondria are only in the egg, not in the sperm. My grandparents, had three children, two boys and my mother. My mother passed the mitochondria to me and my sister, but the men would not contribute mitochondria to their sons or daughters. It is amazing to look at that serious face with intensity and concentration and see that passed down to my daughter, my son and my niece….
Guess who is who in the following photographs. I took two of them.




My daughter is home and we went on a beach walk yesterday! The stupid oxygen keeps me from going fast. She went for a bike ride afterwards. Hooray!
Yesterday evening she brought up social distancing and how careful she should be. She has about 5 friends who are home that she is going to walk with. I am still wearing a mask over my oxygen tubing most places. She will unmask if they are vaccinated and they don’t have a cold or anything else. Even a cold would make me worse at this point. It makes me grumpy to be vulnerable, but I appreciate the discussion.
When pneumonia nearly takes me out, I want COLOR. I think I managed it with this. The skirt is not only silly, but a little short for me to wear to work….
My wolf river apple tree likes the fence between it and the road.
I took this a few days ago. The tree is preferentially growing toward the fence and the part that is below and behind the fence is in full bloom and gorgeous. The rest of the tree is budding but not in full bloom.
What does it like about the fence? Shelter from the cars in the road? The fence is to the west, so it shouldn’t do much for warmth, but that could be part of it. Maybe it does not like the car exhaust.
Maybe I should extend the fence a little higher in that corner. Just to please my tree….
….I wore the oxygen all night and I swear that every cell, including all the probiotics, antibiotics, conbiotics, unclebiotics and even the amateurs were so happy. They all relaxed in a pile and snuggled, bathed in oxygen.
Stealthie in my yard, two days ago. I like the current crop of grass and weeds.
Music: Simon Lynge Hallelujah: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIHpeaHJJ9s
His website is here: https://simonlyngemusic.com/. Hey Simon, when do we get another local concert? Concert in the grass? Hugs, ya’ll.
Do you know the round?
Spring would be a dreary season
If twere nothing else but spring
would be a deary season….
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: awakening.
My parents’ time warp Beatnik household, 1978, before I went to be an exchange student in Denmark.
We had a German exchange student living with us. She had been placed with a couple with no children, a military family, and was unhappy. My parents agreed that she could move in with us for the rest of her year. I decided to apply as an exchange student. I have not heard from her in years. Blessings, where ever she is.
BLIND WILDERNESS
in front of the garden gate - JezzieG
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Or not, depending on my mood
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain!
An onion has many layers. So have I!
Exploring the great outdoors one step at a time
Some of the creative paths that escaped from my brain!
Books, reading and more ... with an Australian focus ... written on Ngunnawal Country
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
spirituality / art / ethics
Coast-to-coast US bike tour
Generative AI
Climbing, Outdoors, Life!
imperfect pictures
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
En fotoblogg
Books by author Diana Coombes
NEW FLOWERY JOURNEYS
in search of a better us
Personal Blog
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
π πππππΎπ πΆπππ½π―ππΎππ.πΌππ ππππΎ.
Taking the camera for a walk!!!
From the Existential to the Mundane - From Poetry to Prose
1 Man and His Bloody Dog
Homepage Engaging the World, Hearing the World and speaking for the World.
Anne M Bray's art blog, and then some.
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