What prey tell does the praying mantis yell
When his prayers fall helpless on the ears of the heartless
I was out in the yard and not having much regard
For the creatures in the shadows on the edge of the hedge
It’s a rose bush of sorts with a leafy spindly spool
That covers the wall by the pool and the mall of the patio
It was a sunny morning and I’d given them no warning
When I approached the thorny bush with my garden clippers at the ready
Had it been a normal day I might have decided not to stay
And instead chosen the electric hedge trimmer to do my dirty work
But for some divine intervention I pulled out the shear invention
And headed to the lowest point of the lush green hedge
And as I began to chop, slashing, shearing, tearing, romp
Through the thicket I could hear the crunch of every vine in the bunch
I must say it felt good like a hacker hacking wood
And I blindly slashed straight forward cutting everything in sight
Had it been a darker day, had it been a different way, or a just moment later
I might not have seen the courageous act of one hidden chameleon creature
He stood standing on the wreckage of a spindly thorn and faced me with a scorn
And he stared at me in disbelief as if his home had just been torn by my savagery
I stared back and then it hit me could there be a Preying family in there?
beneath the rubble of my devastating shearing could there be a family fearing?
I at once pulled back the thicket to look beneath the outer branches
And sure enough a female there and two small tykes climbing through the pikes
I released the open hedge and returned to face my judge, “Mr. Mantis”, I began
“You have saved your family clan, with an action so bold the story forever will be told”
And with that he’s in the thicket, his antenna searching for the bugs, for the
Mantis is my savior to devour the thugs who prey upon the green of my roses.
2 comments:
What a sensitive mix of prose and poetry. Beautifully done. Bravo!!!
Such a simple life experience turned into an abundance of reflections.
Thanks for sharing,
The author asks us to consider many worthy subjects in this essay; motivations for being charitable, divine intervention as expressed by serendipity and the virtue of courage to name a few. However, Ginna's observation of the power of ordinary life experience resonates personally with me as well.
Verily, the ordinary has the power to beguile. I was recently thinking how very much I enjoy some random, ordinary, ritual actions that populate my daily life. Take for instance, washing the dishes, a task most would equate with a chore. I can't get enough of it! I love the feel of the warm water on my hands (no gloves, manicure be damned), the organized manner of tidying up the residue of a meal happily shared, making order of a mess, witness to the cleanliness at the end, all the result of my efforts. Each morning, I have the same sensation when I blow dry my hair, something I was never particularly adept at nor considered previously for more than a nanosecond. I enjoy the tactile way I now expertly handle my locks, standing at the mirror as I systematically work the head in sections with the brush. Presented with the end product, I am mildly ecstatic at my handiwork and smile.
I think the quality that appeals in these actions is the quiet focus on a simple task. I try not to rush myself but rather, to enjoy it. Lately I've been wanting more of these kind of experiences, preferring some quite solitude at my desk writing, an evening of languorous reading, or listening to This American Life as the stories ignite my imagination. Even the car sirens wailing down below do not dampen my contemplative mood. Perhaps it's a desire for nesting, nestling close inside as the weather turns colder. I refuse to budge except for the things that are important to me, spin, yoga, dance, delighted to find myself alone at home with me, perhaps a coq au vin bubbling on the stove. I always had a desire to have a boudoir, a special, intimate, highly personal space in which to conduct my most private contemplation. It's wonderful to be able to enjoy the simple, ordinary pleasure of being in your space, divinely mindful for a time, reaching into your soul, listening to your heart.
Of course, this exaltation of an ordinary life could be complimented by some appropriate person next to me on the sofa as we debate the merits of Jay Leno's new time-slot. Spooning does have its merits! But in the end, I do sometimes wonder, despite all the grasping for relationships, whether I will simply prefer to fill myself up alone, quite contentedly, choosing ordinary me.
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