Guinea Pig

He was telling me the story of Daedalus & Icarus

as he tied fir boughs on my arms with baling twine

I was eight and gullible

He was fourteen and filled with vision & dreams

Some day he would become an engineer, but

for today, I was again, his guinea pig as he

prepared me for flight from our 12 foot woodshed

He was my best friend and brother and

oh how I adored him!

The roof had a four foot pitch- enough, he figured,

for me to run flapping to the top and launch

into the stratosphere

Run, Sister, run! He hollered

My mother, ever vigilant, heard from inside the

 kitchen, stepped out onto the porch

and yelled: Stop! Do not jump!

Luckily, I screeched to a halt just at

the precipice and cheated death once again

However, my guinea pig role did not

end that day

Funny, my brother was such a sweetheart, I don’t

remember him ever being punished

Seems, everyone tolerated his “creativity”

I, more than tolerated it, I was a joyful

participant  and survivor!

Ah, the adventurous days of youth…

Having some sweet summer memories...Too hot to go outside, so I enjoy some wild memories until it cools down. 101 degrees on my thermometer yesterday, it has cooled considerably today. Where are wings when I want them?

raintreepoet reporting.

Independence Day at South Bay!

Uncle Ed and Aunt Louise lived on a hundred

acres on Puget Sound with a few thousand feet

of waterfront, backed by rolling hills, a sprawling

orchard and 70 Guernsey cows, waiting out

pregnancy and one Guernsey bull to guard them

Our Fourth of Julys began with

a clambake on the beach around noon

Uncle Ed had spent the morning digging

cockle and butter clams

He built a fire on the beach, and when it

burnt down to coals, he piled the grate

with salt weed we kids pulled along the shore

He layered the clams with salt weed then

covered the stack with wet gunny sacks

Butter melted in a pan close by the fire

The family gathered round as the clams opened,

 we piled plates with mountains of clams and

 melted butter in a clam shell, imbibing a delicacy

I can still taste today!

Lots of work went into this annual celebration

Many hands made light the work and we kids

joyfully did whatever we were conscripted

to do

In between times, I swung in one of the hammocks

under the trees, enjoying a bay breeze and relief

from the summer sun

Brother Doug was usually out in the field setting

off fire crackers, so napping was not easy but I

was young and Pop always said: Rainy has two

speeds: Stop and go like hell; so I must have

snoozed a little

Toward evening Uncle Ed and Aunt Louise with

everybody’s help, started hauling out the food

they had prepared for our barbecue feast

As the coals turned from red to white, the

hotdogs were first-Uncle Ed would frown if

you didn’t accept one,

Then the chicken went on-never pre-cooked,

 Uncle Ed, a doctor, always served it black!

There were endless salads and raw vegetables

harvested from all the family gardens and corn on

the cob, chips, pickles, olives and usually some

exotic offering Uncle Frank, antique & art dealer,

 picked up on his travels

Mom’s ice tea with fresh lemon and sugar was

drunk by the gallons and after a little rest

Aunt Louise brought out her strawberry shortcake

with succulent strawberries from her personal strawberry

patch, fresh baked biscuits piled high with rich, yellow

 Guernsey whipped cream

The women and children cleaned up while the men

rested, chatted, napped and then we children roamed

the acres exploring, warned to stay away from the bull!

Mom usually took a walk with my sister and me

As darkness approached, Uncle Ed and Pop opened

the fireworks and instructed brothers Burt and Doug

how to set them up in the field, buckets of water

and the garden hose nearby

Aunt Louise and mom and Aunt Erma brought out

the blankets and my sister Vick and I carried out

and set up the folding chairs in a semi-circle

where the extended family would later sit

Aunt Erma usually brought homemade fudge and

some glazed walnuts and later we would have

homemade ice-cream that any kid who wanted to

got to crank the churn-one of my favorite things

to do

Uncle Ed and my brothers set off the fireworks

Since pop and the uncles loved fireworks, they

pooled their money and we usually had an hour’s

worth to display-and many displays were visible

set off by other families all around the bay

At the end, after the last Roman candle died,

My sister and I danced around with sparklers

singing “The Star Spangled Banner” demanding

our share of attention

Later, I remember waking up briefly in my

father’s arms as he carried me to bed

Home at last, this little farm girl, turned over and

went to sleep, safe in my soft bed, to dream

I would later learn in school about the

American Revolution and why we were celebrating…

"Dogs have owners, Cats have staff."

          


This Might Be About My Cats

My house mates are Winston, who is Joel Grey in Cabaret

And Oliver, a Buddhist monk in meditation

Occasionally they mix it up when Winston decides to

Interrupt Oliver’s annoying calm

For the most part tho’, they lay about like fine Dresden

Sculptures, superior in their artfulness

When I go into the kitchen for anything,

They mystically appear and stare at me until

Compelled, I top off each food bowl- not a meow

Need be uttered

I adopted the masters on a cold December night

Each had his own appeal and

I could not choose between them

Winston, the elder, was four months old

and his brother, Oliver Twist was two months

of fluffy kitten cuteness

Winston, sleek grey with white spats and ascot

struck me as properly British, the shelter had named

him Giorgio, but I could see that he was no way Italian

And who names a kitten Sea Breeze? Really?!

Oliver Twist, a dusky tortoise shell looked every bit

the gutter snipe

It’s been a year and a half-in that time Oliver has receded

deep into Buddhist meditation and Winston has

channeled his high strung persona into a perfect Joel Grey

in Cabaret

His voice demands attention and he is the playful tease who

engages both Oliver and me

There are only two of them, they cannot procreate

The rule is: A woman must have three cats to be a crazy

old cat woman

I have only two- you do the math- I am simply a

Blank- blank woman with a couple

British roommates-one is a gentleman and the other?

Certainly a bloke/ born again Buddhist!

RMK 11/June/2015 ©

Having Coffee with the Folks

Mid-afternoon I crave good strong coffee

with cream

This has been going on only a few months

Most of my life (since age 10) I took

my coffee unadulterated, black

like my mother

One day Pop’s smiling face

occurred to me and I realized

I am being punked by ghosts!

Of course the coffee additives

are mom’s version of healthy:

coconut milk and coconut oil

and a scant teaspoon of honey

She knew I’d never totally

abandon what she taught me

He won’t mind, the taste is

somewhat close to the thick

Guernsey cream he stirred into

his afternoon fix-and so,

Here we are in afternoon

communion-me remembering

them and them probably having

a good laugh at me

There may only be a thin veil

between us, however, they are

very much felt and present

and that makes me smile…

RMK, 15 June 2015, © 

Am I there, yet?

        

When Things Go My Way

When things go my way, I shall have a dog named

Shakespeare, who will lie, sprawled on a fine Arabic

Rug of intricate design, in front of

a brick fireplace, next to my old dark wood

rocking chair, sleeping soundly as I read

 classic Anais Nin erotica, the phone

on a small marble table, unplugged

cannot ring

When things go my way, I shall stroll

along a sunny beach, Shakespeare

romping by my side

taking time out every once in awhile

to chase seagulls down to the surf

then dashing back to me for

a reassuring pat and scratch

behind his ear

Barefoot, I’ll race him to the waters edge

and wince a little as the ice cold water

kisses my aging feet

When things go my way, I’ll sit at my library table,

by a crackling fire in a beloved beach house,

silver braided hair, a lean, fit body in denim jeans

topped by a soft flannel shirt

writing some provocative poetry or

perhaps a sage review, on a

yellow tablet, a cup of pungent coffee

beside my scribbling hand

When things go my way, I’ll lie out in my rope hammock

Shakespeare cuddled beside me, daydreaming

in the warm sun, a breeze gently rocking us

to and fro, the ocean’s whisper soothing our ears

Then Shakespeare will break the peace with an excited bark,

as a figure approaches…then delighted, robust laughter

as an agile, silver-haired man, joins the dog and me

for a swing in the hammock, too…

When things go my way, the sun will set on three in a

hammock and there will be peace, love and much joy…

when things go our way…

 From chapbook: Love Roulette by Rainy Knight aka raintreepoet. :-)

The Sky

Prompt: Go outside. Stare at the sky. Write about what you see.

The Sky

13 June 2015

The sky is cloudless. No mean feat in this part of the northwest

where grey skies are the norm and usually the sky is chock full of clouds

Clouds! Where the hell are you? Without you, the sky is a big blue void!

Note: it is rimmed in pale blue gradating to white

which suddenly reminds me of “A Whiter Shade of Pale”

playing on the juke box at Jake’s Café, East side, Olympia,

June 1967, where I was a waitress (first job off the farm)

and when my shift was done, going with a “regular” who

was divorced and twice my age at 36, handsome in a Dick Clark

 kinda way, to a city park and smooching for a good long time

He may have thought it was foreplay, but

I was 18, and to me, it was making out

As he (for the life of me, I cannot remember his name)

built up a head of steam, panting and shoving his hands where

 they did not belong, I was saved by a plaintive meowing

in the bushes

I jumped out of his car and went in search of

the owner of the meow, the mood interrupted,

he quickly followed

We managed to find a scruffy little kitten

(which I cannot for the life of me remember what

it looked like)

Resigned, he offered to take me back to my car

I cuddled the kitten all the way

As I said good night, he smiled and asked

what I would call the kitten- I replied something

inane like “Fluffy”, but in my mind I knew

it was God…

The sky is still cloudless, but a darker, richer shade of blue.

RMK June 2015 ©

If-By Rudyard Kipling

To June Graduates:

                                                                                                                       

    

   (Born December 30, 1865;

 Died January 17, 1936) 

 If you can keep your head when all about you

 Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;                 

 IF you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

 But make allowance for their doubting too:

 If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,

 Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies

 Or being hated don’t give way to hating

 And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise

 If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

 If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,

 If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

 And treat those two imposters just the same:

 If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

 Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

 Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

 And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;

 If you can make one heap of all your winnings

 And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

 And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

 And never breathe a word about your loss:

 If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

 To serve your turn long after they are gone,

 And so hold on when there is nothing in you

 Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

 If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

 Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

 If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

 If all men count with you, but none too much:

 If you can fill the unforgiving minutes

 With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

 Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Note from raintreepoet: Man as in short for human