Forest

-jerry Wendt 2018

Titans have fallen here, and died,
unmourned in solitude.
Indeed, is there even God here where
light of Heaven never falls upon congregation,
and few tread the thick rich loamy layers of death ?

There abides here rich bounty of life,
it scurries, crawls, burrows and slithers,
while above, feathers flutter forth
when outside world sends
currents of wind to sway sentinels.

Sustenance is plentiful, 
shared shelter and strife.
Overall, this vaulted nave
serves cathedral to eternal mother
and maternal forbearance.

This is a place of cycles,
eternal bliss and blight.
It endures and provides.
Surely there is Holiness
abiding in this shadowed temple

Waiting

I knew when the time would be right.  My brothers and sister had been nagging at me for awhile, jostling me, nudging me forward and chattering my head off .  But I wasn’t quite ready. Change is hard to indulge.  Especially when things have been so good as is- just lying in the soft warm lap pf luxury, with not a care in the world, being fed and quenched with no concern.  This aura of well-being was difficult to challenge.

But I knew it was near an end.  The season was changing.  Things were getting warmer.  The big maple was greening and lush sweetness was in the air. More to point was a yearning within me; inner urges to spread my wings and fly alone, seeking my own world of adventure beyond this nest.  I wanted to make my own way, feel my own rewarding efforts to carry me up and forward to new discoveries.  I was becoming bored and impatient.

My brothers and sister had already found their independence.  They had found  their own way, leaving me now the sole one remaining at home.  My physical nature had also changed giving me substance and color.  I had muscle, stamina and resolve.  However it was easier to just stay comfortably safe and sound without all the sibling prodding and verbal urging compelling me to make the move.

But I knew it was necessary.  Mom had given me impetus by leaving me alone more and more, moving forward with her own life.  I also wasn’t getting meals as often.  This was all part of her counsel that it was time for me to leave the nest. I felt I could not fulfill my own destiny without making earnest effort.  To really try and, once and for all, steel myself with enough nerve to make a positive move.

I was alone at home. As a spring breeze urged me forward,  I moved to the edge.  I knew this was my time.  I had been conditioning myself for this moment .  I had confidence.  Bravery was within me, finally.  I readied myself, moved forward.  My wait was over.  This was the time and moment of decision

I leaped into my future, new wings urgent and strong with purposeful movement.
I faltered.  Oh NO- please give me strength.  I was in spiral.  A bit upward, then a fluttering descent. My first valiant effort ended in disgrace plopped into a pile of leaves heaped on the ground.  I was O.K., but my pride was wounded.  Well, I would rest a few minutes, gather my resolve and try again.  All wasn’t lost, just a bit longer of a wait.

But creeping stealthily forward was another who had been  waiting.  A gray tabby was cautiously excited.  For days she had come below and looked up anxiously for the brood to come to her.  They were too high up to make the effort to climb to.  Besides, there were plenty of mice and moles right at paws reach right below in her earthly domain.  So she had bided her time.  Tabby had returned daily to see the robins leave their nest , wings urgently flapping... and then the lift, up up and away.  Darn.   Each one another frustration and waste of time. 

But today, today, there was opportunity.  Her patience and stalking had proved rewarding.  She crept forward . She pounced.
The newly minted robin saw her danger, It was instinctive.  She made mighty effort, lifting a bit, And again,  And again.  But exhausted, she seemed tethered to the ground. And then, her time was past.  It was a short life, ended too soon . Tabby cat had found a delicious reward.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of leaves  stirred up by beating wings as eagle talons swooped down and grasped in death grip , changing predator into prey .  As the mighty bird arced upward above the canopy with the catch of the day, we are left with an empty nest and our thoughts;

“All things come to he who waits,”
and, then again,
“He who hesitates is lost.”   
But, perhaps, most apt,
“Destiny waits for no man” (or beast)

This Itch

Unwelcome, inopportune and insidious
it launches attack, immediately demanding attention.
Not the variety borne by a healing wound,
Not the tangent of an insect bite or sting,
Not caused by a allergic reaction to a shot,
Nor poison Ivy,
Nor nervous tension,
Or even coarse fabric,
It’s totally random and inexplicable,
precipitant-

This itch

Always demanding attention
at an inconvenient time and place,
comfortable in bed on cold winters’ night,
driving through a torrential rain,
riding a roller coaster,
speaking before a large audience, 
carrying both arms full of groceries,
during the culmination of  intimate pairing,
or even hands full of grunge and grease,
but always and ever an insistent aggravation-

This itch

Vexing and tormenting
from an unreachable zone
under an armpit,
the upper center back,
the bottom of the heel,
in the crotch,
behind an eye,
between toes,
inside a nostril,
even fleeting transitory locations-

This itch

At first there is the thought,
“It’ll go away,”
resulting in stoic endurance.
But, it doesn’t ; testing resolve,
commanding full attention,
and diverting any effort
to think about anything else;
vexing, annoying, interrupting,
with an ever-growing demand to action
It does NOT just “go away-”

This itch

So , first, comes the doomed-to-failure hand attempt,
stretch, reposition, contortion- all no damn good.
Then, rubbing against a hard object,
fidgeting in the car seat, rubbing on a door sill,
a tree trunk, the chair back, a wall.
Getting out of warm bed to attempt a reach,
trying to be nonchalant in front of an audience,
availing use of a shoe, a kids toy, spatula, yardstick,  or an umbrella...
or even that bamboo back scratcher you saved from a vacation tropical drink.
Oh, this torment, it’s getting unbearably worse-

This itch

Finally, Finally,
in desperation, the spot is reached and comes earnest “s-c-r-a-t-c-h.”
Oh Joy, oh Heaven, oh glorious splendid relief.
There is revel in ingenuity, smugness at victory.
Thoughts can finally turn elsewhere
The battle is won.  Victory !
The mind goes on reset
the body repositions in sweet bliss.
Until...
Oh God, Jesus, Mary , NO,- it has struck again !-

This Hell -sent itch !

-jerry wendt 2018