Something in the Airone of 1000 sounds

It’s not new or old,

Just waiting to be told,

Neither here nor there, maybe everywhere?

Dark or gray unknown;

Shadows, heartbeat, rain and storm;

Living in the dark, hiding from daylight?

On the grass it sleeps,

Gleaming in the moon,

Earth is warm and kind;

Holds it to her chest

Morning dew it drinks

Waiting to be seen.

Then it disappears,

No sound, smell or sight . . 

To be remembered by?

There one day and gone away.

What was that . . . ?

Something in the air.

17/12/2020, NJ.

  • A baby was learning to crawl. She licked the soil and smothered her nose in the grass. The dewdrops were sweet and ticklish. Tiny ants went helter-skelter as the baby caused havoc crawling right into their trail. They scrambled for life and in their flight scurried all over her making her itch. She brushed them off, watching in fascination how they picked themselves up and hobbled straight off. Soon they reconstructed their trail and marched off carrying leaves, crumbs, twigs and even other insects. The baby loved the ants and thought they were great fun. They are indeed, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/group/ants/
  • Trees. We can never tell if they suffer growing pains. It’s hard to ignore that they just might when the saplings get swung about resisting the fury of the winter wind. In the forests, the tiny things get trampled by enthusiastic walkers and still they manage to grow. They live for as long as 9000 years, longer than any other living being on Earth and are also the tallest, like the Giant Sequoia, up to 379.7 feet (115.7 m). Trees provide shelter, shade and, oxygen, store carbon, stabilize the soil and give life to wildlife. A less known fact is that urban trees can contribute to the formation of ozone and smog during hot weather as they emit pollen and volatile organic compounds. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0013935117304942
  • It was a different time and age. Very different. Boundaries then were visible walls and frontiers, the kind drawn by mothers for their children. Language was multidimensional. No words could describe what was articulated verbally if it could not be tasted and felt. A magnet was a magnet. It was a friend. The kind of friend that remained faithful to its mother but poked its head out the bathroom window pretending to spy on the neighbors and call out “Chuuuuuuu-chuuuuuuu”. Not even the sound of the charcoal-fired train whistling down the tracks every other hour could dampen the sound of that cry. If anything, the hoot-hoot would fuse-in with the call bringing a much anticipated melody to the attention of one little girl sitting at the dinner table with the rest of her family. She knew nothing of the city she lived in except for the grand name Beklo-Bet, Poney-House. When the little girl sprang out of her seat she did so unnoticed. Her discipline was remarkable. Every morsel of her meal had been licked clean off her plate; mind you she had made sure not to be caught in the act of licking it. Her meal-time duty had been accomplished. There were other younger ones that needed to catch up while she made her silent escape. “Chuuuuuuu-chuuuuuuu” came the call again falling on deaf ears except for the little one who did not run for the doorway, No, she walked backwards to make sure nobody was watching as she secretly disappeared from the room. Then she ran outdoors and scrambled up the wall where her friend could see her waving signaling she was on her way. Soon they were together, one looking down at the other from the concrete block wall, both ready to spring to one another. The little one placed her feet carefully onto the rungs of the ladder and slowly she made her descent until she finally reached the ground. It was playtime!