Everything's A Test (Or "Hum A Few Bars")

Everything's A Test (Or "Hum A Few Bars")
Copyright JUL 21, 2009
Word count: 226


I am not very good at this dance
I don't know if I want to be an equal...
I don't know that I could be your equal
but I don't want to be the bad puppy.

I never asked for your title,
I never competed for your laurels.
I have never once intended perfection,
I just want to take each moment, and see what happens next,

some moments are better than others...
sometimes some moments are worse...
but moments are not always...
moments were never meant to be always.

I cannot see the long road...
I can only see what is in front of me now,
though I know you will always see what has gone before.
I am what I am by my own lights now,
yours' only started my path.

I cannot be what you are,
but I can still hold my own...
and I can be the person I am,
flawed, oddish, dwelling,
intent on the wrong things...intent on the right things
And maybe, just maybe, that's what is needed now.

As I am dancing through the landmines

with a deep breath and eyes front, big smile in place

-- trying to get through,

I am grateful that you are watching my progress,

but

please

remember

that I am the one taking each step

and I need you to let me try.

Untitled

Untitled
Copyright JUL 14, 2009
Word count: 294
Certain aspects come from a writing exercise from Summer and Rita: Look at a display containing: a few flowers, a scented candle, a string of pearls, a tablecloth, and a picture, and write a piece or a scene about it. My thanks to Dawes Arboretum for providing the idea for the scenery.



Light moved gently, a soft waltz with the wind in the leaves. On a small island in the center of the pond, a goose raised her head from her nest and cocked a suspicious eye at the couple settling their tablecloth on the bank. She felt that they were no real threat, thanks to the distance and the water, but she glared at them disapprovingly even so.

The woman was chattering squirrel-like at the man and after some shifting and repositioning, they threw themselves into the task of setting out their meal. The woman made a valiant but awkward attempt to release the plastic-wrap's death grip on the sandwiches and the man spilled half of the just-opened bottle of wine and was mopping at it in a determined, but ineffective fashion.

There was a shriek of laughter, followed by a shriek of exasperation from the woman, and the brow and neck of the man bent in further consternation.

A child, heretofore unseen by the nosy goose, had discovered the lake...more particularly, the thick obsequious black clay on the banks and within moments of his profound discovery, he had coated himself from toe to golden head in the reeking, impossible stuff. He dashed to his parents covered in clay and grass seeds and leaves, smelling of dead fish, and knocked over the rest of the wine in his haste. He bounced on the sandwiches in his glee, and threw himself at the woman.

The goose noticed the look exchanged between the man and the woman, could hear their sighs even at this distance...and then she heard the sighs slowly, slowly turn to laughter.

The goose tucked her head down around her peaceful, perfect clutch, and spared the noisy threesome only one more thought.


"Amateurs!"