Short Story/Poetry – LuceStellare

Ode to 2019

And so, the last day of the year has arrived. It’s just after sunset on a cold day here in West Brookfield. The wicked sleety, ice storm left a pile of frozen slush ankle deep. The early evening show of thunder and lightening yesterday was bizarre. Still, the lights stayed on, the howl and spatter only rattled the windows.

Stellina and Tesoro emerge from slumbers long enough for breakfast, dinner and a quick run around chasing old shoelace “snakes”. A lucky life they have here. Soft blankets to purr on. A welcoming voice to greet them should they arise.

The house is starting to feel too small now. We just turned back towards the light. The feeling of stuck inside prevails. Last week, the wild forsythia patch felt the nip of sheers. A new short limb saw is ready to continue the task. A few afternoons, it was clear and almost warm. On Saturday, it was so balmy, I sat out on my beach chair for a few minutes, feeling the sun’s rays on my face. Sunning in December? From calm and friendly to roaring frost, it changes so fast here. It’s a long way to go. January will be what? I think January’s full moon is called snow Moon.

What happened in 2019? A big big ouch in the back. It hurt a lot. Horses, there were horses some of the time. The dream has to slumber for now. The spirit wants to go, but the body is tired. And, the want keeps getting buried behind the needs. I did what I could. I’ll do what I can.

Tesoro has been the biggest surprise of all. He came home in January 2017. A three year old house cat who was afraid. Afraid of everything. He wasn’t like that in the cat shelter. He was big eyed and playful. He hid under the bed for four months, only emerging from time to time for company. So cautious! So sensitive! Almost three years it’s taken for him to decide it’s okay to sit next to me on the couch. The last month, he decided it’s fun to cuddle with Mom. He’s happy. He looks up with his big eyes with happiness deep inside. This summer, he finally joined us outside in the backyard. I caught him sneaking out the front door and coming down the side yard. Suddenly, the big scary basement was okay. Every weekend, he came outside to walk on the grass, or watch from the doorway. The beast came out as he chased a grey squirrel up a tree. He’s whole! Tesoro accepted us! It just took almost three years, but he loves his new home.

So, any plans for tonight? I’m a quiet soul. Crowds and cold are no fun. Star Wars! The Skywalker saga may have come to some sort of end lately, but Luke will always be there. Maybe it’s time to watch “A New Hope” where it all began so long ago. Tomorrow, we’ll take that fine long walk in the fresh air tomorrow. Plans are on for the afternoon. Thick boots, thick gloves and socks will rule the day.

After that, it’s back to the grind. How lucky I’ve been to have this early winter break. To be quiet for days. To sleep in everyday. To enjoy home! To visit. To be warm and safe. The streets outside are quiet already. Only light traffic goes by. People are doing what they do. I’m hopeful to see another winter, another storm, another day.

A Walking Song

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We’ll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

J.R.R. Tolkien

Solemn Rememberance

A most solemn day approaches on November 11, 2018. One hundred years have passed since the agreement was written to end the fighting in Europe. The four years of battle between many nations, fought most vigorously in Belgium and France.

“In Flanders Field the poppies blow, between the crosses, row on row…”

Be humbled by the great loss of life. Of the men who fought and died. The villagers caught in the middle of armies at war. The farms and fields lost to shot and shell. The horses, the brave horses and mules killed as they carried supplies and guns to the battlefield. The farm animals, cows, chickens and goats scattered and frightened by it all. The birds, insects and all life forms in the forest lost.

Remember the Earth. It felt the impact too. The shells that blazed out of guns and cannon for four long years. Look at these old trenches. Think of the men who lived in them for a while, died in them and came out of them shattered forever.

This is what happens when humans cannot resolve conflicts in peaceable voices. This is what remains. So, consider the arrogance of man to say, we are the most evolved animal on earth. Be humble and remember it is 100 years anniversary since the War to end all Wars concluded.

So, what have we learned since then?

In Flanders Fields
BY JOHN MCCRAE

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.