Never ever give up

The opening stands waiting
for the final cut to sever,
the majestic beauty reduced
to wooden cityscape defined.
Time passes unaware
as changes betray the passing,
small life born anew
rising up,
never giving up.
Resilience in action
the shoots raise their arms to the sky,
reaching high as it was born to do,
tiny palm like leaves unfurl
waving gently in the breeze
as if waving the flag
no surrender.

The magic banana tree that was cut down after Hurricane Irma has seemed to start again with a new tenacious little sucker. Below pictures of original tree flower, the city scape left after the downing and now the little Churchill saying to my ears, never ever give up.

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Pulp city

Nature finds her way to tell us,

the magic of a tree not meant to be

snapped about in ferocious winds

asking for a speedy demise.

He skillfully cuts here and there

the magician of lumberjacking goes about his way

and I hold the tether and feel the vibration

through my hands and touching my soul,

I always felt it was the tears of a trunk

letting me know that it was okay,

when nothing lasts forever and time is so precious,

for safety we say farewell

two stories plus tall she takes her final bow

and slips down in her place meant for cushioning the blow

she rolls once then nothing more.

I walk to her side and peer at the center

where lifeblood flowed until it didn’t

and see within her a skyline sublime

so grabbing my camera captured her,

the inner essence of her final beauty

and bid a quiet farewell with this post,

thank you for the gifts of shade

and the magic banana flowers you showered us with,

I won’t mention the billions of leaves

which gave my muscles work

raking endlessly as you continued on your way

climbing higher to the sky

before the fateful Irma day.

Our “magic banana” tree as of a few minutes ago is no longer. She snapped at the top during Irma and because she is not a strong tree (more weed tree than anything) we trimmed all week the branches and today, lopped the balance down. In her center was what looked like a skyline. Photos by me.

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Rain on cedar

The scent of rain on cedar

removes the self and moves the memory backwards.

Days of dark houses and cages of big eyed beasts

that carry the innocent look until teeth sunk in to tender skin

and the damp wet smell of tree bark pieces

perpetual job of scraping cages and cleaning glass.

I remember how we caught a praying mantis

and on a lark decided upon a battle of the big eyed beast

and the stick-like green alien.

Headless the stick moved after battle

just like the babies that were devoured

because the beast deemed necessity

to rid itself of itself.

Rain on cedar now sparks light

pleasant thought of peace

leaving the darkness of glass walls behind

and the foul stench of soaked chips for pets

that upon realizing escape could be had,

ran loose through the night

before a tired demise

at the hands of an unlikely sump pump

becoming the watery grave.

I drift in adult days and blurry haze of yesterday’s

and leave it behind beneath mulch on the path

walking forward from there,

from childish thoughts and nightmares

I reach dreams on the fly

staring at the falling drops

from the grey clouded sky.

Thoughts today for some reason kept revolving around rain on cedar and like my mind has a mind to travel on its silly paths, kept heading back to hamster cages of my youth, of darker days I like to leave behind, but perhaps to let it into the light here, I can move along on my merry way to better images and topics. Thanks for letting me vent out some not so nice things here my friends….but I most felt bad for the poor praying mantis…I didn’t know they were endangered, even in the 70’s…Peace and kinder thoughts, K