In the Deep, Chilly Dark of New Year's Eve Night

A snake.
A slithery, slippery snake,
Winding its way through the fog in the field,
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A light.
A booming, bursting light,
Blasting its glow in the poor snake's eyes,
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

The rain.
The drizzly, drippy rain,
Dampening the light, that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes,
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A gale.
A blustery, gusty gale,
Blowing the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes,
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Night.

A tree.
A tall, sturdy tree,
Blocking the gale that
Blew the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes,
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, In the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A match.
A flaming, sizzling match,
Burning the tree that
Blocked the gale that
Blew the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A truck.
A flashing, screaming truck,
Spraying the match that
Burned the tree that
Blocked the gale that
Blew the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A car.
A smashing, swerving car.
Banging into the truck that
Sprayed the match that
Burned the tree that
Blocked the gale that
Blew the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes
As it wound its way through the fog in the field
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A giant.
A tall and creepy giant
That squashes the car that
Banged the truck that
Sprayed the match that
Burned the tree that
Blocked the gale that
Blew the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.

A snake.
A hissing, swishing snake.
Biting the giant that squashed the car that
Banged the truck that
Sprayed the match that
Burned the tree that
Blocked the gale that
Blew the rain that
Dampened the light that
Blasted its glow in the poor snake's eyes
As it wound its way through the fog in the field.
And the giant fell...
In the dark, in the dark,
In the deep, chilly dark of New Year's Eve night.
__________________________________________________________________________________Photo from this Website

The Story of Dainty Blossom, a Chinese Nobleman's Daughter Who Lived in the Song Dynasty

My name is Dainty Blossom. I was born right after my brother Great Mountain. My father Dan Bian was an astrologer at the palace of the Emperor, not the most important one though. Mother says I was very quiet as a baby, but I don't remember much of anything until I was five years old and father's older brother Bao Hu was coming home from a trip abroad.

Father had just bought me new shoes and a new dress. My shoes were much smaller than Great Mountain's; his feet weren't bound. Bao Hu had a daughter my age called Shining Eyes. Mother told me about her. There was a thunderstorm at her birth, and her eyes reflected it like a mirror. As soon I met her I was amazed: her eyes glowed. Mother told me to go look after my little sister Lily Petal, and Shining Eyes asked to help. Mother smiled at such filial piety, so she nodded, yes. Lily Petal was asleep so the rest of day was uneventful.

It was some time after this, eleven years really, when I got married. My husband, Han Yu, is an Astrologer under my father. At the wedding I only remember thinking (I know it isn't right, but its true) that I was to spend the rest of my life with a man I hardly knew. I got to know him much better because the following year I gave birth: twin boys. The elder of the two we called Strong Tiger, the smaller we named Golden Spear. Golden Spear looked so small, so fragile.

It was two years later when I gave birth again to a beautiful baby girl. Han Yu said we should call her Jade Tigress. However, shortly after I gave birth Golden Spear died. Still, we placed Jade Tigress under her crib, gave her a pottery shard to play with and announced her birth to the ancestors with an offering. Then we had Golden Spear's funeral. One year later another funeral; this time my father's. Mother said that, as he lay dying, he spoke "Dainty Blossom, yes, she's my daughter isn't she?" Mother believes I must have been a very filial child: he didn't mention any of my brothers or sisters, not Great Mountain, Bright Lightning, Golden Pearl, Silver Moonlight, Lily Petal, not even Falling Star. I am very honored. I stayed at my old home for three months. Then I returned to Han Yu's dwelling. When I came back I wept, just a little. Not long after this I gave birth again; a boy we called Springing Wildcat. 

Thirteen years later my mother died. I could not stay and mourn for long; I stayed for little more than a week. It made me sad to be so near to her spirit, in the home where I grew up. When I returned home I wept a lot. For Father, for Mother, for Golden Spear.

When I was 45 years old Strong Tiger married Emerald River, a magistrate's daughter. There were lotus flowers everywhere and Emerald River's feet were TINY. Good for her, I thought. Jade Tigress' feet weren't that small, neither were mine, even at that age.

Four years after the wedding I was riding in a cart to visit Jade Tigress and her twin daughters, Lotus and Jasmine. Suddenly another cart came rushing around a curve in the road. Those horses were panicked. Our horses veered to the side of the road. Unfortunately, we were a few feet from a cliff. The driver yelled, but it was too late: we were plummeting over the edge. The horses struggled to get free, all to no avail. A farmer found the wreckage in the morning. My name was Dainty Blossom, and that is my story.




The Photo is From This Website 

Fairies in the Wood

Fairies dancing through the trees,

In the face of joy, evil flees.

Hair spinning,

Darkness thinning.

Fairies flitting here and there,

Rosie as an apple, golden as a pear.

Balls of light between the leaves,

Tiny footprints, small as fleas.

Suddenly a Snap! a Crack!

Fairies all go darting back.

Running for cover, hither and thither,

Some with a slip and some with a slither.

Enormous shoe comes crashing down,

Their entire world shakes with the sound.

Another Crash!, and three and four,

Finally there is no more.

The Human is gone, its fine,

He's returning to his house to dine.

But he will come again, 'tis evident,

He will destroy these elegant,

These perfect, perfect little ones,
Each of their faces shine like tiny suns.

Now the Fairies in the wood,

No longer dancing as they should.

Instead of that, they cower in fear,

That more feet will come tramping near.

Yet we seem not to notice what we've done,

We've sent the minute frolickers on the run.

We laugh and sing and leap about,

When Fairies are mentioned, we give a shout.

We smile and think how small children feel,

Believing that Fairies are actually real.

Photo by Tyce Fraser

Poetry/Poesia

Ciò è una poesia.
È noioso e dolce.
Di tutte le cose stupide,
È il più peggiore nella terra.
Facciami un favore.
Nonlo legga, per favore,
Porterà sul vomito,
E una debolezza delle ginocchia.
È troppo tardi, voi lo ha letto,
C'è niente che possa fare,
Ma nonmi uccida prego;
Lo odio anche.

This is a poem.
It is boring and bland.
Of all stupid things,
It's the worst in the land.
Do me a favor.
Don't read it, please,
It'll bring on vomiting,
And a weakness of knees.
It's too late, you've read it,
There's nothing I can do,
But please don't kill me;
I hate it too.

Beauty is...

Beauty is the Sun on my skin and the wind in my hair
As we speed down the twisting dirt road.
Beauty is the light in the falling leaves
Making shimmering shadows appear.
Beauty is the Autumn rain in the mountains,
Falling on my skin, moistening the world.
Beauty is the fire in the stove
Bringing warmth on a cold winter night.
Beauty is the love on Christmas morning
Spreading smiles as gifts are exchanged.
Beauty is the feeling that life is reentering the world
As sunlight warms the earth beneath my feet.
Beauty is the smell of the creek rushing
Past as I lay on my back by the swimming hole.

Beauty is always changing,
Through the seasons and across the world.
In the trees and in the sky,
In river beds among smooth stones,
On top of a dandelion seed in the wind...
Beauty is.