A different perspective or a novel approach

My mother sent me this link, so I cannot take credit for finding or posting it, but I can, however, take the acclaim for passing it on and for sharing it. I can also add to her email by letting you know the thoughts and the feelings that it evoked in me.

But first, watch it, so I don’t spoil the ending or there will be no point in any of it.

What did you think? Sweet, huh? And kind of quirky. She is a real ‘retro chick’, isn’t she? Although whether I can get away with calling her that at her age or not, is another matter entirely? I think the term ‘chick’ runs out just shy of 30, and she looks somewhat older than that to me. Either that, or the period dress throws it all out of kilter and I’m basing my instincts on what I see instead of what is.

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to impart. My intention was simply to say that this made me smile in a soft and gentle way, appealing to my romantic notions of the world, notions that tend to view objects as things with feelings and animals as little people, all of which have to be very carefully taken care of. I felt sorry for the nail file, magazine, mobile and laptop. And I was in anguish over the dress. To me, they all suffered just so that she, Miranda, could get something done. But it was also very clever and, strangely, I might actually have to try it myself. I might find a less complicated way of effecting the entrapment, though, one that ensures all objects are safe and remain that way. I wouldn’t want to traumatise my Kindle or fall out with the kettle. And how on earth am I supposed to pin down and trap the sun?

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Paper Birds

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Outside, it is hot and still,
the air strangely silent.
The crickets doze,
the wasps float,
the trees curl up.
Even the local dogs,
usually vocal,
seem incapable of interacting.

It is the same inside the house:
the candles wilt,
the plants droop,
the paper birds collapse.
Over on the windowsill
a fly searches for company
while ants dissect its mate.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Something Removed Rolling

image
Something removed rolling

Crickets sharpen their legs against the grass,
the sound reminding me of a restaurant kitchen.
I’m waiting for the “chop, chop!”
and something removed rolling.

The sun sets on the horizon.
The trees settle on the drive.
The cicadas rejoice in the meadow.
The metallic clink of bells rises up from the distance
and an occasional dog whines.

Sitting on the porch in my nightdress –
white, thin and cool –
I absorb my surroundings,
observed only by the stars.

And yet I long for the opposite,
dreaming of traffic jams,
noise pollution,
concrete structures
and bright light.

by Rebecca L. Atherton
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