The Lion and the Lamb

A wide grass plain
Bakes under a searing sun.
An elephant trots, a giraffe sways,
A zebra bolts, a tiger leaps.
Behold, the lion sees the lamb.

A hyena shrieks, a rhino rushes,
A snake slides, a crane glides,
A vulture gazes, a gazelle darts,
The parched soil thirsts.
Behold, the lion hunts the lamb.

Above the plain a mountain rises.
Storm clouds shroud her distinction.
Turning inside out, she melts her collar.
Ice drips down the sides of her cone.
Behold, the lion catches the lamb.

The earth splits with a humble sigh.
The mountain crumbles over the broken plain.
The withered grass whispers silent sobs.
The moon disappears into a starless sky.
Behold, the lion licks the lamb.

A canary sings a clarion call.
The pastel dawn hosts one shear cloud.
White sand shifts under aqua tides.
In the shadows, an orchid opens.
Behold, the lion lies down with the lamb.

Catalina

Cathleen and Chris

"As matters now stand with me I am no longer spurred to creative effort by ambition, but by the urge to communicate with my friends and the wish to give them pleasure: whenever I know this urge and wish to have been satisfied, I am happy and content." Richard Wagner, in a letter to Franz Liszt

Beyond the Dark Blue

A short story

Beyond the dark blue ran a deep purple that bled into a thin white spilling out looking like puddles of blood. Silence. A shadow tiptoed over the puddles and left large tracks that disappeared after the rain. Yes, it poured that day. Poured like water from a faucet on the hill behind the small white cottage on the edge of a Mediterranean sea. Everywhere else it was dry. Dry like salt. Another shadow slipped out the front door of the house and slid down to the sea. Sliding out of nothing, its blackness slid down to the water and then into the water where it faded into the water.

The two shadows knew each other from yesterday, but today they were strangers going in opposite directions. One was headed for the town of two palm trees and a bucket of water. The other was headed for an island of one beach and a small coconut tree. A monkey beckoned the water shadow to come up out of the water and sit on the sand. The black shadow slid silently over the low tide and lay quietly by the monkey. The monkey tried desperately to caress the shadow, to make friends, to have a conversation, to make a connection, to tickle, to snuggle, to kiss, but the shadow slipped away about two yards. The monkey, in frustration, bit the shadow. The monkey with a mouthful of sand ran off to hide in the coconut tree and weep until the sun went down.

Ciao!

Catalina

Cathleen and Chris!

"For is not music a language? And of what is it the language? Is it not the language of the dream world, the world beyond thought?" Robertson Davies, The Lyre of Orpheus