Between the Waters

Lay Me Down

By: EarlB, 2:44 AM GMT on February 28, 2007

Lay me down
Beneath the forest floor
Between holly and oak.

Lay me down
Where snow and rain
Will wash my soul,
Will speed my atoms
On their way to
Resurrection
In holly and oak.

Raise me up
In fire and smoke,
Speed me to heaven
In the arms
Of holly and oak.

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Brothers

By: EarlB, 3:00 AM GMT on February 19, 2007

Under blue skys and in such a pleasant setting, it was hard to imagine that
I was here to say goodbye.

And, it was hard to begin the tasks that mark the end of a life.

Depending on how kind someone wished to be, I'd be described as being either
an animist or just plain silly, I suppose. But, I hesitated as I lay saw against
what, up until last autumn, was a handsome oak. Since September, it has been
uprooted, downed by a wind long since gone.

I have always paused before cutting a tree for firewood, just a moment, just time
for a thank you, a thank you for the gift of all life, for the sustaining warmth to
come, as a result of death.

So, cut I did. Finality.

Rings around the sun, the earth in it's path, the rings that mark time. There it was
before me, the tree was the same age as I. We shared kinship, we were seeds
together, separated by miles and species, but brothers of an age. For sixty summers
we shared time under blue skys like today's, under gray, under stars. For sixty years
we were drawn upward by the sun, doing our lives' work and weathering as many storms as
possible.

It was my luck to outlive my brother, I would like to think that it'll take more
than a hurricane to uproot me. Oh, to be so strong.

I only hope that there will be a kind eye to assess my rings when I am gone.

Updated: 2:53 AM GMT on February 20, 2007

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Snow

By: EarlB, 2:01 AM GMT on February 08, 2007

You could see it coming. Closer and closer. Unlike summer storms,
the sky became whiter and whiter. You could hear it coming. Like
a deep murmur growing larger and larger, like wind whisking through
open fingers, like fingers waving in the flurry of motion.

Then the snow came. Swirling, plunging, floating. Slowly, ever so slowly, sky
found earth. The snow defied measure: hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands,
unknowable numbers that one by one formed a blanket to cover the hard browns
of winter cornfield.

Who could doubt winter's progression? Who could doubt earth's clock ticking
through these, the darkest hours. Nearer, nearer, the snow comes, time is
all that it will take, time is all.

Snow.

From the sky
They come-
The geese fall
To open-armed earth.

Updated: 3:08 AM GMT on February 19, 2007

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Metompkin Max

By: EarlB, 12:30 PM GMT on February 02, 2007

Dateline Metompkin, VA February 2, 2007

At precisely 7:08am GST (Groundhog Standard Time) Virginia's
Eastern Shore resident and prognosticator, Metompkin Max,
fulfilled his yearly duty by rubbing the sleep from his
eyes, observing weather conditions and proclaiming:
"Hey where's my shadow? Spring into action everybody,
Winter is OVER! This rain must have washed it away."

Max, who has always been described as "quite handsome",
looked particularly sharp this year, "Amos planted corn this
year, my favorite!" Those not familiar with the groundhog
physique might confuse Max's pudge as due to overeating, in
truth, the boy is bursting with pride! He and Clover are the
proud parents of their firstborn, Max XVII (known familiarly
as "Chuck"). What a difference a year makes!

Max (XVI) is the nephew of the famed forecaster of
southeastern Pennsylvania, Octorara Orphie. Both are of the
Marmotus rex clan, exalted forecasters and general shunners
of publicity (unlike "that Phil guy, a Marmotus familiaris,
who'd do anything for a camera"). Max resides (with the
arrival of Chuck, not so quietly, recently) on the Amos
Stoltzfus farm in suburban Metompkin, VA.

As usual, Max cautioned the residents of the Shore not to be
lulled into putting on their shorts because of his forecast,
"... we do have global warming to consider." Just two days
ago, Max's heliograph predicted a COLD snap for the first
week of February! An Eastern Shore Spring is like a San
Francisco summer (without the hills!).

Keep your woodpile dry, and keep a smile in your hearts, Spring is just around the
corner.

Happy Candlemas day, y'all.

To check on other prognosticators, go to www.groundhogsday.com click on "Groundhog Central"

Respectfully submitted by Earl Frederick (Sec. Gen. Slumbering Groundhog Lodge #46)

You may contact General Frederick at earlb@netscape.com

Updated: 1:12 PM GMT on February 02, 2007

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