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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2004 :  19:19:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
December summer. Strawberry fields bordered with sunflowers. Two yellow planes cruising low where waves are breaking. Waves are like snowflakes. No two exactly the same. The slow ocean does not freeze here. Nor do we see our breath in vapor in front of our eyes. Palms explode daily against a benevolent sky. The four of them out there with feet dangling over their boards. Leashed to fiberglass islands. The sea lifts and settles. Their worlds are green. Are water. Small kings of the new tribe.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2004 :  19:35:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Keep a candle burning ever low..."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2004 :  20:21:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Wonderful shopping with Mr. Gardener tonight. This time... A jewelry store. His Lady Catherine likes rose gold and opals. Colors of the desert sky. A braided band. And a wedding at the small Church I can see from my kitchen window. Built for acoustics. The children's choir will sing If You Were The Only Girl In The World and Beautiful Dreamer. Third or fourth Saturday in January. Depending upon when Father Don gets back from cold North Dakota. The reception is at our house. "...immediately following the ceremony..." Five minutes from the Church to our door. Mr. Gardener's son wanted it in Las Vegas. "We'll rent a slot machine," Stu says.

They're planting trees on the street where I work. First an "X" in orange Dayglow on the sidewalk. Next, lift out the squares like brownies in a pan. Stake yellow CAUTION tape before the leaves drop in. Brassy now. But wait until April!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2004 :  20:22:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Love is all that matters."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2004 :  18:43:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We walk into Coast Jewelry and Antiques. "Opals and rose gold," Mr. Gardener says. We are expected. Like magicians, Maddie and Jim, the proprietors produce four sleeves of rolled black velvet. They spread them out on the counter before us. Loose stone and set pieces. A kaleidoscope of colors. One hundred shades of blue. I try on all the rings. Two or three on each finger. My fingers are on fire. Maddi and Jim bring hot Chai tea and tell us where some of the stones were mined. They invite us to tour The Tourmaline Queen, a working mine in Pala about 20 miles inland. Mr. Gardener is nearly blind. He holds each ring up close to his eyes. He sets one of the rings aside. And an antique hairclip shaped like a butterfly. All opals. The hairclip is set in white gold. Catherine's hair is white and silver. The ring is a braided band of oval opals in delicate rose gold. A ring that looks like love. I wish I could draw it on this computer. Mr. Gardener says, "The butterfly for sure. And the ring on her approval. Now you're not gonna charge me no entertainment tax, are ya?" He brought the butterfly home for Christmas. Saturday they'll cruise down the coast and he'll suggest they stop in the store. "She's already said 'yes' so I got nothin' to lose if she don't like the ring." I said, "Ralph, you know she'll LOVE it!" He laughed like he knew that was true.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2004 :  18:44:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Goodnight, dear hearts..."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2004 :  19:34:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Fog last night. 5 miles an hour by bicycle on the Pacific Coast Highway. No planes in my sky. Only stars I couldn't see. Busy night for the Coast Guard full of donuts and coffee. All boats dropped anchor. Had to be led in. Didn't know their radar. Didn't know red right returning. Didn't know their sea. This morning many boats in the newspaper. FOR SALE - BEST OFFER. The waves roll. The stones turn. I think of you. The Sailor.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2004 :  19:38:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...so close your sleepy eyes and let the sky... Nothing... Nothing can harm you..."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/16/2004 :  19:55:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Here come the waves by way of Siberia and Hawaii. Expected to be 15 feet high at Swami's and Sunset Cliffs. The beachfront restaurants are barricaded by boulders that fly through their dining rooms like marbles riccocheting inside fishbowls every few years. When the tide peaks and the Pacific Ocean crosses the Pacific Coast Highway at Cardiff by the Sea. The tide peaks at 1:17pm tomorrow. Storm surf is like being in the eye of a hurricane. A green room. An echo chamber. A huge roaring tunnel you can hear your scream inside of. You ride with your arms extended. Your fingers dragging the rolling walls to slow you down. Fingers are brakes. When the wave closes out, it spits everything inside it including the surfer. You need to keep your balance then. Not get pounded with the weight of the water. Or the wave right behind it. Don't look back. You eat a lot of sand. Today there's also Santa Ana. Glittery bright air. Leaves curling at the window scritch-scratching to get in. Hot winds that makes the waves ruffled spill effervescent. Water 60. Air 81.
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a FaLsE pOeT
Starting Member

21 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2004 :  01:55:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
time was I had a dream
time was I had a dream
my dream was to stand here and sing
stand here and sing

I have had mountains
and mountains and mountains
in the palm of my hand

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2004 :  17:49:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The biggest Department Store in town. A block long on Main Street. Six windows of Christmastime magic. A moonlit village with steepled Churches. Smoke rising from red brick chimney tops in plump donut rings. Halos around everything. A Hans Brinker skating pond edged with sleds. Santa's workshop. Reindeers and Lionel locomotives. Elves in buckled boots and tiny leather aprons. Mouths full of shiny nails. Mrs. Claus's Olde Bakery Shoppe. Shortbread pinwheels coming out of the ovens under clouds of spun-sugar steam. Candy cane smocks and stripped stockings. Pointy-toed slippers and holly hats with bells. A big calendar hanging crooked to count down the days. Kids with their noses pressed up against the glass sucking their hair into icicles. And just over there by the streetlamp... Under snowflakes gently falling... POe.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2004 :  17:51:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Wherever there are songs I will be singing. Dear hearts and gentle people, goodnight."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2004 :  18:02:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
[quote]Originally posted by Ailinn

The biggest Department Store in town. A block long on Main Street. Six windows of Christmastime magic. A moonlit village with steepled Churches. Smoke rising from red brick chimney tops in plump donut rings. Halos around everything. A Hans Brinker skating pond edged with sleds. Santa's workshop. Reindeers and Lionel locomotives. Elves in buckled boots and tiny leather aprons. Mouths full of shiny nails. Mrs. Claus's Olde Bakery Shoppe. Shortbread pinwheels coming out of the ovens under clouds of spun-sugar steam. Candy cane smocks and stripped stockings. Pointy-toed slippers and holly hats with bells. A big calendar hanging crooked to count down the days. Kids with their noses pressed up against the glass sucking their hair into icicles. And just over there by the streetlamp... Under snowflakes gently falling... POe.


.....and these are a few of my favorite things......





Karen Runk
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/19/2004 :  19:15:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
How they walked not a straight line but bumping against each other. Side to side. And backwards too. With wide gestures. Easy to see when they agreed and embellished. Easy to see when they did not. Then his hands would go still and his chin solemn. And he would not blink his eyes. Everything started or stopped by his side. Her, not even holding her breath when feigning impatient disguise. No shuddering grief assailed them. Mornings he would turn to his magic cabinet. Its carved wooden boxes with treasures inside. He would lift the lid on The Box of Names. "For today," he would say and hand her a scrap of paper.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/19/2004 :  19:19:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
My friend, I bind my soul with your flag. Tattered, but not fallen. Through the denser light of Durrow over 600 years ago you made your way along the granite quay. Nicked finger. Heart full of vows. Now you stand with your back to the campfire under ornamental stars. This celestial night at your shoulders.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/20/2004 :  21:40:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Old friend, old friend, you've been shelter in the wind. Thank God for one old friend. That's all I have to say."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/21/2004 :  22:39:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She listens when his shadow crosses the page. When his hands curve for oars or music. "Look here," he says. The compass on the counter journeying on its own. The fickle latitudes and longitudes. The scholarly sky stays ordered above his head while she reads her ancient books upside-down. She cooks with a vengence. Walks long at the edge of the glass-green sea. One set of footprints trailing. No sun to warm her December 21st. The shortest day. The knot of pain caught caged in her faulty heart. He makes the key fit perfectly. Marvels at its burnished intensity bemused by his locksmith ability. He wears it on a ring at his waist. It tinkles like wind chimes. It tolls like bells.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/24/2004 :  23:15:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
At the ocean end of town stars are sitting glittery on the water. The Cove Bakery traditionally stays open all night. Kids on break from UCSD line up at the old anchor-supported counter where the coffee is free tonight and New Years Eve. Folks come by to pick up their orders. Chocolate chip croissants and Christmas brunch brioche flecked with red and green jalapeno peppers. Trays of mosaic Danish. Jelly donuts big as a grown mans fist. Rum cakes that need two hands to hold them. And their specialty apple/almond torte called Bethlehem's Crown. The children are spinning. Sugar and dreams. How the light shaped itself around their live red-robed choir all hugging their knees on the Altar steps singing, "...fall on your knees...oh, hear..." Dear God, bless the Porch family as we wait for the Child who comes tonight. Happy Birthday, Jesus. Merry Christmas, Mick.
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andrew p
Firefly

USA
3936 Posts

Posted - 12/24/2004 :  23:32:17  Show Profile  Visit andrew p's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
M'Lady...
your words paint such vivid pictures...You make it all come alive, you make it so realistic...
it's like a movie for my mind's eye...
Thank you...andrew
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1903 Posts

Posted - 12/25/2004 :  09:29:45  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you, Andrew. I was sitting on Mick's bed at the end of August 2002. It was late afternoon coming on evening. Suddenly Mick said, "I must talk to Andrew..." It was a great effort for him to move. At that moment Laura came to use the computer. Mick gave her his message to you. His concern was so intense as she typed. He did not trust technology. He was a hand-written paper man. When he was sure the message was sent he beamed that old closed-eyed grin. Merry Christmas and love.
Roisin
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