Hillbilly Zen – Circus

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ready, Set, Done!.”

As it’s been a while since our last free-write… set a timer for ten minutes. Write without pause (and no edits!) until you’re out of time. Then, publish what you have (it’s your call whether or not to give the post a once-over).
 

It begins much too early in the morning, with hot breath on my face, wet noses giving me not-so-gentle nudges, and three sets of unblinking eyes boring into the bleary depths of mine.  I pull the covers over my head in a futile attempt to ignore the inevitable, heave a sigh, then begin the slow rise from a warm bed.

Tails begin wagging frantically, and trembling masses of heretofore restrained exuberance go from zero to full tilt boogie in a nanosecond.  The circus has begun.  Small, medium and large dogs bounce as if they have springs on their feet, and the two feline inhabitants of the house run for cover.

If I’m very lucky and very quick, there is time to get coffee started before the stars of the circus are buckled into their harnesses, which is only slightly easier than gift-wrapping Jello. The ringmistress is then dragged outside, unbuttoned coat flapping, unbrushed hair swirling and shoes only halfway on.  Suddenly the urgency disappears, and every…single…blade of grass must be properly sniffed before canine bodily functions are completed.

At last the troupe tumbles back into a house that smells of hazelnut coffee, and the stars, seasoned performers that they are, know not to get between Mama and her coffee. Now begins the second act, in which various and sundry performers must be persuaded the let their human squeeze into a corner of the couch.   Having depleted their adrenaline rush for now (after stern reminders that the kitten is NOT a squeak toy), the circus arranges itself into a drooling, snoring, farting finale.

Curtain.

Hillbilly Zen – Blessings, Blogs, Blitzes and Battle Lines

I’ve known for quite some time that there are incredibly talented folks blogging on WordPress, and having to restrict my access to their work has brought that point home in a big way.  The writing, the photography and the art are just outstanding, and I want to thank each and every one of you for sharing your gifts with the world.  You truly make this planet a better place, each in your own unique way.

Ok, I’m done being all mushy.  For now, anyway.

Being unemployed blows, and having to spend limited internet time doing what I don’t like (filling out job applications) vs. what I like a lot (reading great blogs) blows big wind.  My account has finally reset, though, so y’all get ready to see gobs of Likes and comments on your blogs.  It’s going to take awhile to catch up, but as long as the coffee holds out, I’m good.

In between searching for a decent job and enjoying awesome blogs, I’ll be going into battle with a local tourist spot.  Their animals are being poorly cared for, some to the point of death, and it cannot be allowed to continue.  The administration of the facility has been notified and done nothing to correct the situation, so I’m currently in communication with the Board of Trustees and local officials.  If that doesn’t produce action, it’ll be time to take it up a notch and go to the media.  I’m really hoping that won’t be necessary, because other than the problem with the animals it’s a wonderful place.  I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, thank you again for sharing your wonderful work; getting up to date on what I’ve missed is such a pleasure.  Any prayers, good vibes and encouragement will be greatly appreciated!

Hillbilly Zen – Silly, Silly, Silly (The Ballad of Hank)

 

Silly, Silly, Silly

(The Ballad of Hank)

 

I sat on my back porch one morning,

drinking coffee and having a smoke.

Now this story is true,

I swear, although you

might think I am telling a joke.

 

The sun was up long before I was,

and really was getting too hot.

So I hauled myself up,

grabbing ashtray and cup,

to search for a cool, shady spot.

 

I settled in under a maple,

thinking “Yeah, this is where I should be!”

Then I heard a faint humming,

looked to see what was coming

just as Hank landed on my right knee.

 

I’ll confess I made quite a commotion

as I leapt from my seat ‘neath the tree.

Lots of yelling and fussing

(and a wee bit of cussing)

’cause Hank is a HUGE honeybee.

 

“Don’t be zcared,” he gasped,

plainly exhausted,

lying flat on his back in the grass.

“I’m in no zhape to zting you,

I can juzt barely cling to

thiz pollen that’z ztuck to my azz.”

 

He fluttered his little wings feebly,

after taking that ill-fated dive.

“Pleaze don’t kill me,” he pleaded,

“thiz pollen iz needed!

I’ve got to get back to the hive!”

 

Now I don’t claim to be a spring chicken,

this ain’t my first walk ‘round the block.

But it’s pure gospel truth,

though I’m long in the tooth,

I’ve never seen bees that could talk.

 

So I pitied the poor little buzzer,

trying so hard to just stay alive.

He told me his name,

I told him the same,

scooped him up and set off for his hive. 

 

He told me that bees get up early,

so this morning had been a great shock.

He’d slept in, overused

the button marked “Snooze”

on his minuscule honeybee clock.

 

As we walked, Hank revealed nature’s secrets,

things I never imagined I’d know:

why the sky fills with stars,

that there is life on Mars,

and what causes the breezes to blow.

 

I was just getting ready to ask him

something I’ve pondered for years;

how the Sun likes his coffee,

when Hank suddenly stopped me –

“I think I can make it from here.”

 

As I watched Hank fly off o’er the hillside,

and bid him a cheerful adieu,

I knew that this tale was a tall one.

No one would believe me,

do you?

 

So I sat down and wrote out this ballad for Hank,

I acknowledge that it’s quite a dilly.

Hadn’t been smoking chronic

or guzzling spring tonic,

sometimes…it’s just fun to be zilly.

bottom bee15

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