Fiestas, Carnivals, Celebrations
the sound of drums wafting across the sage comforting to know
traditions continue often with rattles and dancing
ancient old original meaning unknown to me
perhaps a prayer gratitude for being and for all other beings
that share a space in the garden easy to imagine an ancient world
where sacred secrets were allowed honored and never shared
the drummers hold sticks handed down for generations
the parrot repeats what he hears like the silver-tongued devil
seen at the carnival thunder in the mountains the old man clears his throat
punch and judy play their parts we have seen it before/still each time unique
September 30, 2017 Sunday's Whirligig
Can We Meet in The
Middle?
the words are served
mixed up a mulligan stew we take sides
argue until the sun sets
in the west gasping to catch our
breath we tilt at windmills
where to begin how to see the other
side another point of view
we feed our own positions our inability to disagree
gracefully is a crime
perhaps it is an art form in which we are not trained we argue
we deliver our own point
of view we sing our opinions at the top of our voices
we injure those on the
other side murder is not too
great a crime we will not listen
we feed on our own
positions perhaps we could meet in the middle find meeting ground
October 1, 2017 The Sunday Whirl
Note: I had just read Maria's Sunday Paper, scroll down, News and Views Above the Noise. 1. A View for your dining table conversation. It is about how we have lost the art of disagreement.
