Spinnaker sails hoisted picturesquely to take advantage of their fullness hoping to catch the heavy air Two boats, now three race hard race fast determined to be the first to make the marker buoy Red sail matches white sail running neck and neck as they ride the sea Blue sail coming up quick behind
Grandfather say, When you stack seven stone perfectly, you have reached perfection in your life. Now I teach my grandson same life lesson.
I say to my grandson, You see these seven stones are all the same but each stone is different in shape, form color, texture and smell. I watched him hold one of the smaller stones to his nose.
My grandson wrinkled his nose he sneezed quite indelicately three times in a row, then lifted another stone and another, having sneezed only after sniffing the smaller first stone the first time. I tell my grandson to remember.
____________________________________________________He is not what he appears to be, that one. He is not a sexy pussycat nor a cuddly kitten; although he would have you believe it to be so.
So many taken in by that lopsided smile and those cats-eyes that can not look directly into yours. It is not because one of those murky green eyes, that left mismatched one, is a lazy eye; though that is what most everyone thinks. Oh no! He can not look you directly in the eye because he knows you will spot the lie behind them, even the lazy one!
And a lazy eye can not hide that which he has atop his head. Can no one else see? Look closely my friend, but not too close! See there, right between his ears, those nasty protrusions? Not hair tufts, not multicolored hair swirls. No! Look fast and look hard, then run away as quickly as you can! Those are not tufts or swirls at all, those are horns! Devil’s horns to be sure!
Whom does that felonious feline serve? Certainly himself, that much is obvious. Dare not touch the beast, for he will most assuredly lure you to your unearthly demise with promises of love, affection, attention and the pleasure of stroking his deceptively luxurious fur. Once touched, the toucher will find he or she can not withdraw the hand speared by the creature’s short-poisonous spines.
Beware that one my friends. Leave him to his duplicitous ways lest you become one in the same, as him!
“Kekenâtethiwa, kekenâtethiwa!” she said in her, in our Native tongue.
“Hurry up, hurry up child!” She said again in English, laughing as she pulled me along.
We moved quickly through the field, heavy now with ripening maze. Down a slight incline and then a hefty hike up the side of a grass laden incline that was steeper than a hill but not quite a mountain, on this side anyway.
The other side saw a sheer drop off of untold thousands of feet with rocky outcroppings and the occasional mountain goat or two perched stable- legged on barely there ledges, eating their fill of sweet grass.
It was on that side that Grandmother and I made our way precariously to a well-worn ledge and sat down to wait. Neither of us spoke, our companionship and union of spirit set long before either of us had been born.
It was not long at all before the moon, full and rosey pink, began to rise just over the first mountain peak. It was so big and so bright that it frightened me.
“Nothing to be afraid of my child. She’s as natural as well, as nature!” She chucked at herself before continuing.
“Do you remember why she’s called Têhimini Tepehkikîshethwa child?”
“Strawberry Moon, Grandmother?” Proud of myself for understanding her. “Yes Grandmother, because it’s pink!”
“This is true child,” she winked at me for my effort. “But why would she turn pink at this time of year, do you know?” Grandmother asked softly, her eyes transfixed by the ever-climbing pink orb.
I looked up at her with wide, curious eyes and shook my head no.
“The Great Manetôwa placed her there to tell us when to plant and when to harvest. When the tides will swell and when they will ease. She turns pink on the Solstice of Summer to remind us to pick our strawberries when they are juicy and ripe before they rot in the heat of Kîshethwa,” she said.
“The Sun?” I asked. I received another wink for that and smiled lovingly up at this woman who was the sun, the moon and the stars to me.
As the strawberry moon rose over the mountain, as it had so many times before and would for so many more; I could feel my grandmother’s spirit sitting beside me so strongly, I almost reached out for her translucent hand.
“Nîna tepânêwa kîna,” I whispered to her.
“I love you, too,” she winked and slipped away with the strawberry moon.
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The Lout’s
Conversation between two friends.
“I can not get over it, I mean I thought that person was so cool and well, nice!” Jerri said.
“I know right! I mean talk about having everything and then throwing it all away. What kind of a lummox does that?” Kelsey asked.
“Lummox, that’s a good one Jerri! Your nice way of saying a complete and total dolt?” Jerri laughed.
“Well, if the shoe fits, right? Honestly though, it would take a true bumpkin to cause that marriage to fail, I just don’t get it.” Kelsey shook her head despondently.
“Don’t take it too personally Kelsey, celebrities get married and divorced all the time. They don’t live in the real world. It’s why they act out, use drugs and alcohol and basically misuse and abuse each other. I say they’re all a bunch of buffoon’s if you ask me.” Jerri said.
“I don’t think it’s pc to use buffoon’s anymore Jerri, you know? But I get your meaning though. To have that kind of talent…” Kelsey began.
Jerri interrupted, “… and to be born with those looks! Aye yi yi!”
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 