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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 10, 2017
the scarecrow's daughter by cattservant is "an achingly beautiful tale of longing and release."
Literature Text
nailed on a south-facing fence
out where horizon meets sky
her shadow follows the sun
frayed faded lips softly sigh
day by day slow years passing
the clouds and birds sailing by
bold ravens tell her wild tales
of a life living so high
her heart of straw is longing
not even saying goodbye
soon she will let it all go
on a wild wind she will fly
out where horizon meets sky
her shadow follows the sun
frayed faded lips softly sigh
day by day slow years passing
the clouds and birds sailing by
bold ravens tell her wild tales
of a life living so high
her heart of straw is longing
not even saying goodbye
soon she will let it all go
on a wild wind she will fly
Literature
For --
Bloom, bloom, bloom,
by the window, by the sun,
by the cooling shade of soft green cedar,
bloom, bloom, bloom.
When the chrysanthemums baldly raises
its heavy head to the dim-lit skies,
or cicadas shrill in train-speed rhythm
buzz and rest their wings on your shivering thighs
do not fear the world, the strangeness of Nature,
do not flip your pale small eyelids and waver.
Whenever burly oaks grow, wild-strong branches wide,
and benign barley bend and bow in a smile;
No - this too high; No - this too low,
Bloom, bloom, bloom.
Literature
Rose and Iris
They loved their garden;
Mother and Daughter would spend
Hours in the sun.
Behind their house was
Green dotted with red, yellow,
Pink and countless more.
Mother loved roses;
Daughter preferred irises.
They planted with care.
They watched the sun rise
While blowing dandelions,
And mimicked at dusk.
Their birdbaths brought in
Winged visitors who were
Greeted with bird seed.
All meals were eaten
On a polka-dot blanket;
Nothing but home-cooked.
Catching butterflies,
Looking for funny-shaped clouds,
Climbing the oak tree.
They ran, danced and sang,
Never tiring of their
Love for each other.
Daughter did not think
That her
Literature
21.15 Mnemonics
He awoke to sunlight in his eyes and the smell of her. Every day, he would stay in bed just a little bit longer than he ought to, just to bask in the glory of smell she had left behind. It was roses and mint and sandalwood and woman and a million other things he couldn’t have described, even if he tried, but it was her, and he would never forget it, as long as he lived, and probably not for a long time after he died.
But every day, the smell grew fainter, the sheets seemed to grow colder, and it was one more day since the last time he woke with her actually there.
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even hearts of straw
can have enough
loneliness
can have enough
loneliness
© 2017 - 2024 cattservant
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At the end of the day, one doesn't need to be human to feel loneliness. 