We, the Coronado Scribes, consist of both professional and amateur writers. We have in common a desire to learn, by sharing our efforts and listening to other writers. We hold pressure-less sessions every Wednesday, at the Coronado Library conference room, starting at 1:30. Often we have guests who wish to just listen. They are welcome, and so are you.
Each week on eCoronado, we feature a different piece of prose or poetry produced by one of our writers. Please feel free to comment or ask questions in the comment section below.
THINGS IMPORTANT & UNIMPORTANT: 2014*
*What’s on your list??
I. THE IMPORTANT
A SENSE OF WONDER:
My first two-wheeled bike ride, . . .alone.
Pot shards and statues, half-exposed, half-buried in Greek farm soil that showed me the ancients were real people, not myth.
A wake-up call of tinkling bells. The musicians? Half empty champagne glasses and a ship’s engine.
Light strings that drape from our mast in a giant Christmas tree and float outside my bedroom window as I fall asleep, each December.
Tiny birds with egg beater legs, racing across the sand to nibble morsels the waves left behind.
Random piano chords that express feelings too deep for words.
Tom and David, who appeared at my door after more than forty years; and made us twelve again.
The train that rolled beside my car for miles, then blew a long whistle and flashed its’ light in farewell, as tracks turned it off into the darkness.
Flowers alive on their own: rose petals and daisies bobbing on frothy waves; Red Hot Pokers blooming on the Silver Strand.
The sound of birds’ wings.
That this is my life.
HAPPINESS:
Sweeping our little boy into my arms and dancing him round and round the living room, and all through our tiny apartment, singing and laughing to the Beatles’ “My Sweet Lord.”
Saturday morning, barefoot, coffee cup in hand, in the soft, sunlit air of my dewy, green, back yard.
Strains of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto in D Minor wafting toward me in the Aspen mountains, and again as I walked down an empty street on cold, crunchy snow.
A wordless smile, a touch of the hand, from someone who shares a moment with me.
Knowing that I, who fear all animals bigger than myself, rode an elephant and a camel and saw my first green flash, all in the year I reached an unimportant,. . . but decidedly mature, age.
Watching fish watch me, as they circle my paddle board.
TRUTHS:
The sun always comes up in the morning.
Things always look better in the morning.
You risk becoming what you hate.
Write it down, before you forget.
Civilized people respect the human dignity of others.
II. THE UNIMPORTANT
New Year’s Resolutions.
Dread: of recliner chairs, baggy dresses with fishes printed on their fronts and crepe-jelly arms
Fear: of hell, food processors and the future.
Sterling fish knives and long-handled teaspoons.
Deadheads on roses.
Posthumous fame.
Happy New Year!
Doris Besikof
January 15, 2014
