Sunday Trees: Stumpy

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See more Sunday Trees.

From the Creator’s Heart #249

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NaPoWriMo Day Four: Dream Class

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Dream Class
by ARHuelsenbeck

retired from teaching

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Children Playing on the Beach by Mary Cassatt

called back on
emergency basis
kindergarten
school building closed

arrived at address
supervisor said
here’s your classroom
and disappeared

four walls open to the sky
an open doorway
no supplies
not even a class list
stupid administrators—
at the BEACH

the students did just what you’d expect
5-year-olds to do
they ran out the door
and scattered in all directions

some ran into the surf
some plopped down to build sandcastles
others hunted for shells and sandcrabs

I shouted myself hoarse
and tried valiantly to gather them up
they showed no signs of hearing me
or even seeing me

fluffy clouds drifted across
turquoise skies
sunshine warmed my skin
a light wind combed
my hair

maybe this could turn out well
beautiful day
sunny beach
happy children

how many students am Inapo2020button1-1
responsible for, anyway?
didn’t I start out with more?
what happens when their
parents come to pick them up
and I can’t find them?

worry about that later

Sculpture Saturday: Glass Art

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Photographed at the Tempe Festival of the Arts, Tempe, Arizona, Fall, 2016. Work of glass artist John McDonald.

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More Sculpture Saturday.

D is for Dachshund

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My Father’s Day present to my husband in 2011 was a dachshund, something he had been begging me for. He and my daughter Erin went to an adoption event at a pet store. He selected a rescued dachshund who had been found in the state forest.

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We don’t really know her back story. The rescue outfit called her Precious. She was about five years old. Greg renamed her Rudi, the same name as the dog his father had owned.

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Rudi’s eyes eventually grew cloudy due to a buildup of cholesterol in her corneas. She lost a lot of her vision. She sometimes scratched her eyes, and had to wear the cone of shame joy.

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She loved to go for walks and would pull you along for the ride.

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She liked to be outside and sit in the sun.

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She was a good companion.

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As she aged, she slowed down. One day, about two years ago, she had several seizures. We took her to the vet right before closing time. The vet ran some tests and kept her overnight. The next morning, she was dead. The vet thinks she had a brain tumor.

It’s hard losing your dear friend, your furry baby. We only had her for seven years. For months, I said “No more dogs.”

But Greg wanted to try again. Before Christmas, we searched the pound for another dachshund. But most of the dogs were pit bulls. Then Greg noticed a little chihuahua trembling in a corner. He needed us.

That’s a whole other story.

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NaPoWriMo Day Three: Freestyle

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Freestyle
by ARHuelsenbeck

a squirrel scampering

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Photo by Jaël Vallée on Unsplash

with a pearl pampering
all the while tampering
clamoring and bantering

despite a verbal deferral, Matsuya
got himself stationed in Fallujah
he won’t be making any moolah
all he be doin’ is sayin’ boo-ya
if he come home, Mama say
hallejujah

when he cut the cord umbilical
he thought he’d reached the pinnacle
instead he fallen
to the bottom
of his proverbial autumn
not to be critical
or overly political
the flower he de-blossomed
was all but forgotten
until she became hysterical
what an intricate predicament
that required a fine instrument
to extricate the excrement
increment by increment
and fashion something infinite
to be marketed by a syndicate

I always wanted to learn to skate
but sketchily I procrastinate
another place, another space
skating becomes my specialty
skating is my identity
essentially becomes my face
too late and vanishes without a trace

Creative Juice #184

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Creative Juice #184

Are we having fun yet?