Sunday, December 11, 2011

Ants

Spaghetti tin was full of spaghetti eating ants. I threw the can into a garbage bin. Little black ants do not have coats, hats and mittens. They will freeze to the death tonight, I hope, because I don't want them in the house. It was very cold night. Little black ants froze to the death. Little shriveled kiwi seeds in tin can - one hundred thousand of them. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12/11/2011

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Water

Water bubbling clear water running over the reeds and rocks. Little brook hurrying to the river. Cold water in the Spring flooding meadows changing them into spongy squelchy surface creates a lake. I am looking from the forest. I know I can not cross in this time of the year. Water owns paths and once dusty roads dominates water clear powerful water. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12/8/2011

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Baby Jesus

Baby Jesus arrived
on his wings
and he said,
and he said ...
I'll give you a s...
this year.

Czech folk poem.

Translated Copyright (c) by Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/6/2011

Saturday, December 3, 2011

New year resolutions from point of view of common Pennsylvania bear

I have to eat now for two or three anyway since I was frolicking whole last summer with another bear from Hawk Mountains. Somehow he found his way to Pottsville and we had some good times together. He is on his way back to his den in Hawk Mountains. I hope he eats well, avoids hunters and survives this winter, because he is coming in the Spring time again.
My fur is already short and sleek. Mother Nature takes good care of me. Provides me with free winter and summer clothes.
So I am eating well. There are still plenty of berries in the woods, and since I am also carnivore, I do not turn down small game.
I took plenty baths last summer, but for some reason, I can not get rid of fleas. I have to swim more next year and drown them.
I have to avoid hunters at any cost. Here they are coming again and brought barking dogs with them, so I have to sit on the tree all day again, or hide in the swamp. It is hard to take care of some one's stomach, when there are madly barking beasts following my scent.
I'll be rising new cub next Spring, so there go my resolutions about the writing. I tried to write into the sand bank last Summer with my claws a poem about white clouds, rustling trees and trouts' bodies shining in the Sun, when they are swimming up stream. Then a wave came and washed out my poem and scattered letters in the wind.
The end.

Copyright (c) Marie Neumann
Pottsville, 12/3/2011