Thursday, August 24, 2006

Old Viking Looking Back

The white windsock hung in the bare branches of an oak tree beside our picnic table, its green and orange tentacles suspended by thin branchlets that formed a trapping web; the last fading remnants of a bygone time, crepe arms spread at unnatural, grotesque angles. Upon first glance, with only a bit of reflection, I imagined an octopus grabbing onto narrow wisps of coral, stubbornly defying the current and all nature’s relentless attempts to pull it into deeper waters. Perhaps that octopus/windsock and I are brothers, each seeking refuge from the current—or maybe we are merely passing in a previously charted course of neither design nor consequence.

These days, it is difficult to discern.

5 comments:

kay lee said...

Outstanding !!!
One of your best!
This new blog likes you.

Bubba said...

Well, maybe... but that doesn't mean I'm going to let it fondle me. I'm not that kind of guy...

Bubba said...

On second thought, maybe I would let my blog fondle me a little... but strictly on the outside my clothes. I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm easy.

Silver Fox said...

This is full of mood.... I like it very much. Reading it kinda "felt" like the end-of-summer slow-down/melancholy.

Bubba said...

Garsh, Silver...

Tanks! That's exactly the mood I was in the day I wrote this. It's obvious that you're a woman of letters and a fine judge of character.

Now, all we have to do is find you some higher quality acquaintances so that you can stop slumming around my blog. Heehee...