Author: kimhaynesjohnson

 

The Wardrobe

…some say Aslan 

is an allegorical 

Christ-like figure 

and the four Pevensies 

disciples 

that may be true 

my brother 

says Narnia 

is about 

venturing 

beyond the realm 

of possessions 

into the world 

of possibilities 

known only 

to untethered souls

“…it was never about the wardrobe,” he reasons

“…it was always about the world on the other side of that drab mansion of antiques….”

….and on this we can agree:

the real value of Narnia 

is in the discovery 

of new worlds 

with broader horizons 

we never could have imagined

we never would have known 

if we hadn’t 

stepped out 

of the old one…..

 Survivor

Labor Day weeding

we found Templeton 

hiding in the 

tiered

cinderblock 

herb garden 

between the onion chives 

and the rosemary 

black and gray 

going his way 

until Mr. Johnson spied him and became 

a maniacal Mr. McGregor smacking wildly at the ground

with a large red shovel

we demolished 

the herb garden 

such a cute Pinterest idea 

never envisioned it 

the multi-story 

rodent mansion maze 

it became 

Templeton-

a menace to 

Mr. Johnson McGregor 

but to 

Mrs. Beatrix Potter/

EB White/

Johnson 

now a homeless survivor 

of the farmer’s 

cruel garden tools 

and a champion 

among rats

tri-color pygmy goat, 1’ tall 

#420 at the Buggy Days Auction

sold! for $175 to # 2178 (me!)

420? a marijuana goat? MaryJane?

#420 at auction

you ate animal crackers in my 

      lap on the porch swing 

420? Maryjane? Janey! perfect name

but you got sick- pneumonia,  

       weakened quickly 

you ate animal crackers in my lap on the porch swing 

not just a goat! you were my kid 

but you got sick – couldn’t stand, still bleating sweetly mercy and tears: sleeping pills crushed in a baby bottle,     

       mixed with one single    

             hollow point 

not just a goat- you were my 

      favorite kid

bought! loved by # 2178 (me!)

mercy and tears – sleeping pills    

    and a single hollow point 

tricolor pygmy goat, 1′ tall

 A Quick Truck Trip

A quick truck trip 

Chevy Silverado 2500 

white work truck

22K miles 

in Dawsonville, Georgia 

but wait! another offer – 

a gentleman from Raleigh

just saw it and left 

but changed his mind halfway home 

and wants it now 

“it’s our policy,” 

the salesman said,

“that if someone else 

is already on the way,

we still show it.”

so we looked 

you drove 

I rode 

we talked 

we offered 

they rejected 

we walked 

an hour later 

you got a slew of pictures 

of this truck

with a promise:

“if the gentleman from Raleigh changes his mind,

 we’ll call you on Monday.”

Amicalola Falls State Park Lodge 

August 23, 2020

Room 405 Amicalola Falls State Park Lodge 

a spellbinding window wall of a view- 

not your typical 

tacky woodland painting

 

instead, a live view 

birds gliding 

hikers climbing 

like ants on a hill 

focused 

on their tasks 

two queen beds 

farm-style sliding doors privatizing the bathroom

stark white shower light awakening the senses  

invigorating the body 

and coffee –

thankfully, coffee 

pour a cup 

to take to the lobby 

to capture in words this glorious place 

three-story stone fireplace spanning lobby to ceiling geometric 

clear glass 

window wall 

an A-frame view 

of the mountain valley below 

breathtaking 

from this summit 

repurposed log 

split lengthwise, 

now a mantle 

holding two tall pottery vases

verandas 

for breathing 

the clean mountain air 

start of the Appalachian Trail just a few steps from

these doors, 

its map spanning

two stories 

on the wall 

opposite the fireplace

 

lamp shade chandeliers, 

(multi-tiered) 

couch, three chairs, 

tables and lamps, 

clean wood floors –

echoing space 

free of any form of clutter

space to breathe

space to think

space to write 

restorative soul space

occasional muffled voices, otherwise 

the early morning quiet 

of this hour 

blended aromas of breakfast- 

bacon, coffee, toast- 

waft through the lobby 

invisible clouds 

on the move,

part two of this

Bed and Breakfast Bundle

soon to come 

mountainous autumn 

color schemes –

rusts, beiges,

greens and browns 

bring in the earthy beauty of these outdoors 

leaving the sky 

the monopoly 

on the blues and whites 

canoe-shaped bookshelf offering flyers -what to do 

what to do?! 

what to do!?

take a walk off the grid 

visit the butterfly farm 

hold tight 

      for a zip line adventure 

take a hike 

be enamored 

      by the 

         rushing waters 

             of the 

               Amicalola 

                  Falls 

go fishing 

have a picnic 

practice archery 

take flight 

      to the birds of prey show 

sit in an Adirondack chair 

sip wine at a vineyard

go kayaking 

go shopping 

normally, we might do these things 

 

but not today –

today, 

we pan for different gold 

today,  

we retreat to the peace offered here 

today, we take it easy!

 

 

Picture Perfect

 

back to FDR State Park

log cabin #7 on Lake Delanor

evening shade of Slash pines

big around as burn barrels

 

hum of trucks puttering

around the lake loop

pulling campers

sound carrying across the water

 

country music from site 21

lighter fluid and charcoal wafting

smoke crossing borders

embers perfect, ready to grill

 

TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR!

umbrella up, covering the flames

grilling steaks in the rain

together, all that matters

 

two yellow kayaks, one red canoe

paddling to shore

peace interrupted

steaks done, so is the rain

 

eerily quiet and still

air-conditioned cabin

too cool on damp skin

urges dinner on the screened stone porch

in the rockers

 

chirping of birds and crickets

tree frogs trilling

tender steak, coleslaw, dilled red potatoes

juicy seedless watermelon

two bottled Blue Moons

 

steam rising off the lake

in a misty picture

perfect 

 

 

Shattered

 

we’d been going out

then a wrinkle

decided to stop

see other people

 

out of town

the call came

 

“there’s been an accident,”

she said,

“a freak accident that

made the Atlanta news

we need to take food”

 

a car crashed

through Mojo’s restaurant window

where you’d been sitting

your parents holding hands

across the table

 

pinning them

underneath

shattered glass

everywhere

 

miraculously you lived

no one understood how –

that’s the nature of a

triple miracle

 

so we made a raisin-glazed ham

and scalloped pineapple

delivered it to

the Funny Farm

where you were

helping your folks and

recovering too

 

from the kitchen

I caught a glimpse

of you

in the recliner

your face and hands

cut, bandaged

avoiding my gaze

as you sat alone

 

my heart skipped a beat

I saw a different you

a vulnerable you

who’d shown

heroic courage

in sifting through

shards of shattered glass

to save others

 

not the showoff trickster motorcycle rider

not the competitive race car driver

not the fast talker with orange PowerAde staining your lips

              as you talked on a concrete picnic bench

 

I saw you –

knew I was in love with you

but was too scared

of another broken heart

to unleave

 

how does anyone unleave, anyway?

not all pieces are as easily picked up

as shattered glass

 

I could at least

ask how you were feeling

no risk there

 

so I texted,

“wanna talk?”

 

expecting to wait days

for the response

that came

immediately

 

 

 

Today’s writing prompt from my writing group sparked connections between the book that I am currently reading and a choral response, so I am taking that form today and using letters exchanged between Barbara Webster and Gladys Taber in 1953 from their farms as I converse with these late authors. Secret Confession: I think I have a writer’s crush on Gladys Taber.

Gladys, from Stillmeadow (Connecticut, 1953): “Do you ever have a moment that is absolutely exquisite? Such moments are rare. They are like holding a pink pearl in your palm. Happiness, I think, is being able to live these moments when they come.”

Kim, from the Funny Farm (Georgia, 2020): A pink pearl, for me, is a cold winter’s morning: a toasty fire, a cozy blanket, a charming book, and my two rescues dozing in my lap.

Barbara, from Sugar Bridge (Pennsylvania, 1953): “Sometimes I think that if I had a whole new life to lead, I’d like nothing so much as to be a really good gardener.”

Kim, from the Funny Farm (Georgia, 2020): I’d be the female Henry David Thoreau, carving out three years to live in a cabin by the lake in a sparsely-furnished space with a rich supply of paper and ink.

Gladys, from Stillmeadow (Connecticut, 1953): “Yes, it takes living to find out what values life has. Most of us, as we grow older, gentle the wild ponies of our heart. Then you find, on the lower pastures, the small flowers that are there and you know the richness of small busy tasks of ordinary living.”

Kim, from the Funny Farm (Georgia, 2020): I’m looking forward to Friday, when I will help lead a group of sixth graders to write letters to nursing home residents in Warm Springs, Georgia who can’t have visitors during this pandemic – young, wild ponies bringing forgotten and unexpected surprises of handwritten letters to the mailboxes of much older horses – flowers in the lower pasture.

 

 

Coding 101: Secretly Forecasting Atmospheric Conditions

invisible
compass rose
superimposed
on our faces
reversed to self,
mirror-style

“weather check?”
I remind us
before venturing along

I turn toward him
gaze to the heavens
a windsock lifting
changing angles
awaiting the forecast

“cloudy in the western hemisphere,
with a strong chance of sunshine
and a slight chance of storms,”
my own private meteorologist
prognosticates
in his whispered broadcast
 

in every forecast he makes there is
a strong chance of sunshine
and a slight chance of storms

he tilts his head
checks the sky
sneezes

no scripted teleprompting needed here

“sustained winds
according to the
barometric pressure
but otherwise
clear and balmy
stay tuned”
I whisper back
grinning a secret smile
signing off the air

I hand him a Kleenex and
duck into the ladies’ room
cocooning my own tissue
in my right hand
in search of a mirror
to release a small cloud from
my western hemisphere

Challenge from

Emily Yamasaki – write a worry box Pantoum.

Enneagram Pantoum

Enneagram Type One? Hmmm….. maybe.

I took the free test. 

A rule follower who wants things done correctly? Me? 

A 98% Perfectionist pie slice?

I took the free truity.com personality test. 

I’m 97% Type 5, Investigator? 

When have you ever known a preacher’s kid who “follows rules”??

I “seek knowledge” and am “more comfortable with #DATA than people?” 

97% that AND 94% The Achiever? 

98%, 97%, 94%?  This pie seems skewed. 

I want “to be successful, admired,” and I’m       

        “conscious of my public image?” 

Is it sinful if I’m more comfortable with data than

        with people?  

The glass pastorium has me nauseated

        with the public image thing, plus Pantoums 

        prove I’m no Perfectionist. 

I’m a tormented breed of a 1, 5, 3.

What am I least of? 47% Type 2, The Giver? 

No, no, no. I tithe. I just give in Godlier ways.

I’m a tormented breed and I’m selfish? 

Exactly how is a rule follower who wants to do things correctly selfish? 

No, no, no. They have me all wrong.

Hmmm…maybe?