All things need oxygen. The brain included. Is life ended with the body, Perhaps the most contested thought The soul released when the body dies.
But what if we are still inside, Starving for air and dying slowly? Does the body work to survive, And the wave of death Is the release of the soul From the house The soul has built inside?
So I didn’t know what to post about today. I was just struggling with the reality of this month…
We had one of our chicken, who are pets go missing. Stray dogs scared her out of the yard. She was seen a block away, injured. She was the second one we have lost this month.
The first one was a baby silkie who got into the duck pool and drowned.
This is after our cat died.
So, this was a really rough month for me and my family.
I had posted in the local Facebook group that we were looking for her(the chicken). She has been missing five days today. We are facing the idea that she’s gone. Well Tuesday I got a message saying that a black chicken was wandering loose two blocks in the other direction.
My child is heartbroken at the loss of their baby. So dad and I went to check it out. We found a pair of loose chickens. They were not willing to be in the coop. Their owners were willing to give them to us if we could catch them.
Of the two we brought one home and the other one is supposed to be caught and given to us today.
Now the new one is peanut and is setting in well. I swear she purred the whole way home.
Though a couple of the volumes had a vote each this one received the most over all of the platforms. So I am as of Tuesday afternoon at 430pm only five poems away from finishing Human Shaped Verse. I have no doubt that I will have it done within the next few days and starting on Lost Notes. The others will get written eventually. They will go back into the rotation for the next volume as I get finished. I usually pick five that feel right and present them to everyone as choices when I get within ten poems of completion of a volume. It is slightly random in that respect.
Could I be like Alice
Walking through the looking glass?
And if I did would it make my troubles
Bigger or would it make them small?
What is there that we cannot see
On the other side of the mirror
from me?
Though the idea calls to the
Adventurous part of my soul,
I remember the faery tales of old.
If you go uninvited to the places
Where they play,
A heavy price they may take.