Good morning Charlie

At first it was a dark tunnel
Filled with dreams both dark and light
Did New Orleans make it out all right?
I heard there was a hurricane.

Oh no? That's good. I love that place.
Thank goodness it was just a dream
Its confusing during the in between
Of sleep and wakefulness.

Something soft and fuzzy rubs against me
What the experts say is "bunting"
But his lovin' just leaves me grunting
In the morning before the coffee.

Her body stretches her sleepy muscles
They have been still for most of the night
And then she sees the slivers of light
Coming in on a beautiful morning.

Okay wake up, its time to do it
Face the day with an open mind
'Tis a day that you know you'll find
Something brand new to experience.

Good morning, Charlie and fuzzy friends
Music will play throughout the day
And mama will come home soon to play
In the golden afternoon.

Game

Alone again. I think perhaps its just me and the world might be my imaginary construct. I suppose it doesn't really matter. Life's just a game, right?

My memory

The vacuum from the chest pulls and pinches
The air from everything, emotion
The heart goes a flutter
Ten thousand finches
At the thought of what's to come

The idea that life is an experience
A moment so insignificant
Almost zero it is in the grand scheme
Of things, enough to tense
The soul for what its worth, hence
It is worth nothing.

Lessons learned from pain but why
Where are we going with this
I cannot discern my lesson except
That perhaps the lesson is that
Despite all the joys and pain in life
It is meaningless
Why do we stay?

We are organisms anyway.
Like cells that live and die
Their only motives are to procreate
But from what we do in life its only
Like we masturbate
For no answers can be found.
It is worth nothing.

Taking a short cut might be the answer
But religion tells that its a sin
Because from there we cannot begin again
But be met with Hell, whatever that could mean
Or nothing, endless, peaceful nothing
Might be what we're met with.

The interactions we have with others
Superficial at best but we have them
Nonetheless.
Humans like to put meaning to their lives
Like our existence is yet another prize
Yet infinitesimally we are nothing
So what does it matter if we disappear

My life is just a dirty smear
On the photograph that is the grand existence
At first glace it is nothing
At second glance it is something
Easily smudged away, forgotten
Like I will be.

A hundred years they will not know me
I have no following
My meek peers they perhaps might miss
My wit, my face, my tender kiss
But in fifty I'll just be a dream
And the memory of me will not be what it seems.

First love

We begin our lives enveloped in protection
Floating in warmth, the echoing sounds of our first love.
She sings to us, rocks us to sleep
We lovingly kick her to let her know we're still there
Alive and kicking.
We are born.
When we are sick she sings to us
Soft melodies that soothe us
Songs we remember until we're old
We pass them down to our own daughters
To our sons.
On our skinned knees, she applies band aids
Our muddy shoes she cleans off
Our dirty faces she grooms
Licks her finger and wipes it off.
Wipes away our tears.
When the monsters come she scares them away
Removes the gum from our hair
How do we feel when the tables turn?
When her demons get the best of her
We know that it isn't her fault
But we ache for that love once more.
If our first love rejects us
Then we are unlovable.
The one we should trust most
Who carried us
Who we were once a part of
Demeans us.
Chastises us and puts us down.
Who's fault could it be but our own.
How do we reject that person
Who we will ache for as adult children?
Our fathers give love, but the nurturing
Is never the same.
To protect is the only game
That they will know.
We want our mothers.
We want their love.
And when that love becomes a game
The only thing we will understand
Is shame.
We have failed. If she doesn't love us
No one will.

Bluebonnets

The Legend of the Bluebonnet

The Texas fields are covered
With a blanket of deep blue.
But for a little Indian girl,
This would not be true.

Texas land was buried and dry.
Rains just would not come.
Indians danced and prayed for rain,
And beat upon their drums.

The Chief made a proclamation.
He appealed to one and all.
A prized possession must be sacrificed
Before the rains would fall.

The Indian camp was silent,
While each person searched his heart.
But when it came to sacrifice,
With possessions they would not part.

Suddenly a little girl stepped forth,
Holding her blue-clad doll.
She placed it in the roaring fire
and raindrops began to fall.

The rain brought forth the grass,
Among its blades, flowers of blue.
To be a sign for all the time
Of a love so pure and true.

Author Unknown

pop

And tonight I am tired
I can't do this anymore
Despite all this diligent work
Its just a useless chore.
I'll spend my nights in silence
I don't want to hear from you again
Or see any other people
Or see any other men.
I remember now why I've always
Hidden. And why I've been silent
I don't care of your motives
Or anything you might have meant.
Let's call the whole thing off
I won't summon any god
God's a father that ignores me
Like those other people have.
It's time for an intervention
It's time for her to stop
She can't tolerate any more of this
Her bubble's about to pop.
My horse never came to me
For me to ride upon his back
This makes me feel inadequate
Is there something more I lack?
I just wanted a little something
A little sugar in my bowl
I won't wait for you honey baby
To come and save my soul.
But I'm not sorry for myself
I'm not on my pity pot
Just realizing what it is
And true it is a lot.
A lost cause, wasted time
I've given too much of it
As my grandma used to say
"I'm so angry I could spit."
But its just my fault tonight
It doesn't really matter
I'll save it for the morning
Or maybe choose the latter.

Two Horses

Two Horses
Author Unknown

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it.

From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.

But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing....

Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind.

His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.

This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell.
Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.

Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell.
It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two friends,
You'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse,
And that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk
To where the other horse is,
Trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns
To the shelter of the barn each evening,
It stops occasionally and looks back,
Making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.
Like the owners of these two horses,
Spirit does not throw us away just because we are not perfect
Or because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives
To help us when we are in need..

Sometimes we are the blind horse
Being guided by the little ringing bell of those who Spirit places in our lives.

Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way....

Good friends are like that...

You may not always see them, but you know they are always there.

poor muse

I cannot find my muse today. I think I left her in the car. She's been laughing at me lately, and not bringing anything new to me. What to do with her, I wonder? So instead, I post this because it brings me joy.

Andromeda

Recently NASA posted this image of the Andromeda galaxy, which has twice the diameter of our Milky Way galaxy. The Milky Way contains more solar systems like ours than I can honestly wrap my pitiful little mind around. And within these solar systems are planets that are to us, more immense than anything we can comprehend. Andromeda, named for a princess in Greek mythology was chained to a rock to be eaten by the cracken (a sea monster) as punishment for her mother, Cassiopia's bragging about her beauty. If you are familiar with Greek mythology you know that she was later rescued by Perseus... or if you are like me and love "Clash of the Titans" (the original version, with all its cheesy special effects and not the new 300 style version which I plan on boycotting) then you also are familiar with this tale.


The Andromeda galaxy is our closest large galaxy neighbor at only a mere 2.5 million light years from our sun. How many solar systems does the Andromeda galaxy have, I wonder? Again, way too many for me to wrap my pitiful mind around. Our earth is big enough as it is, but then when I try to comprehend how vast and large the universe actually is, my mind travels in circles and I feel overwhelmed just trying to understand it. I gaze up into the cloudy sky and know that beyond those clouds today lies our atmosphere and beyond that billions and trillions and possibly an infinite amount of stars and galaxies, planets, solar systems, black holes, worm holes, dark matter, quasars, and a plethora of other things that I may try to understand but probably never will in my life time.

It is just so awe inspiring to me to realize how tiny we really are. It is so awe inspiring to see how beautiful the Andromeda galaxy really is. I'd like to visit it and see if maybe there is a planet with little pink puff balls running around or some other odd creatures seen only in our science fiction movies.

naiads make me happy

Clint Eastwood

You travel alone from town to town
Weathered face and skin so brown
But you aren't ever looking down
You're eyes are wandering all around.

A small dog is your only friend
This tiny critter follows you til the end
And tenderly you will always tend
To this puppy usually seen with women.

A family you have left behind
Perhaps at one time you weren't so kind
Outcast you have become until you find
A little work and some peace of mind.

Suddenly a connection by chance
A stranger comes to you by happenstance
In need of help, to you she's helpless
A daughter stranded on this day of romance.

On Valentine's day you are alone
But helping her you think you might atone
For whatever deed that caused you to roam
So far away from your original home.

She graciously accepts your aid
And the payment to you is her smiling face
For kindness these days is without a trace
But your heart is full and will never fade.

Like a cowboy you roam, your life a mess
Like a cowboy you save the damsel in distress
And my prayers are with you as you're headed out west
And as I think of you, I wish you nothing but the best.

Thanks, Clint.

Sleeping time

Dawn creeps in too slowly
Like she's been out all night
And has been trying to keep quiet
The fact she has not been by your side.

The air is much too dark
Much too damp, hidden from the sun
Yet even now morning has begun
To show its softer side.

Some early birds emerge
To catch the first day's worm
Yet here I am with burns
On my fingertips.

If I had been more careful
I'd still be in my bed
Soft pillows beneath my head
A cat on my stomach.

But the house is much too quiet
Much too still for me this day
If one could even say
That it's not still sleeping time.

Waiting...

The time passed so slowly
Crawled as the shadows on the sun dial do
I counted every second
Until I could be close to you.

Like watching the grass grow
Or the pot that will never boil
Sometimes I wonder that if I take too long
What we have together will spoil

Time close together is seamless
Like the most efficient surgical glue
But know that I am waiting
Until I can be close to you.

Your heart I want it to sour
As eagles touch the sky
And even if the waiting makes me lose you
I still want to see you fly.

For no one has ever touched me
As your face and your presence do
And for this I'll stay here waiting
Until I'm close to you.

my personal genius is inconvenient sometimes

My genius came and kicked me in the head with an awesome poem at 4 o'clock this morning but I told him, "No! sleep is more important."

Why is it that the genius comes at inconvenient times like 5 o'clock traffic or during sex or when you're in an important meeting at the office? Doesn't he know that I have a life to live?

Alas, I lost the poem. Genius, I welcome you some other time today when I can actually record what you've given me. Like this song I woke with in my head at 8 am today. It goes like this:

The chords of the song are indicated with the parentheses. (A)

(A) A.J. wears kitchen (G) shorts, but (D) sometimes he likes to wear a (A) skort.
A.J. wears kitchen shorts, but sometimes he likes to wear a skort.

I need to come up with a second verse, but dammit, that's awesome enough to stand on its own.

I'm thinking about channeling some of my dark infused poetry with happy, nonsensical children's poems that can be turned into songs. And I'll move to California, learn how to be a ventriloquist like Shari Lewis, and have a bevy of animal sock puppets. She was awesome.

but even dragon scales have holes

It's easy to be armored
As this is found so true
When others have betrayed
and made us feel so blue.

It's easy to shy away
Hide behind a pane of glass
It offers invulnerability
We have sought for at long last.

But not always does this work
When someone true wants in
Instead we hurt those we care for
Because of self protection.

To love someone with such a guard
Is like loving a brick wall
But even dragon scales have holes
It is not that way at all.

But too frustrating it might be
To find that armor's weak spot
And instead move on to an easier quest
And let that guarded one be forgot.

Morning ramblings

The four o'clock wake up call seems to be a consistency in my life these days. All the world is still dark, yet there is still some early bird that wants the world to wake up. The house is quiet, the cat asleep above my head purrs when I scratch his ears. This soothes me, yet sometimes I find it difficult to find sleep again. Its interesting the thoughts that pass through one's mind in that in between sleep/wake stage. Sometimes they are calm reflections on the days that have passed and the days that are to come, and sometimes they are just manic worries that keep one from finding that quiet that allows the mind to drift back into REM. Eventually today, I was able to find sleep once more, but the alarm clock sang its song all too soon for me. I could have stayed in bed for hours longer, scratching that kitty who sleeps above my head all night long, his sweet purring lullaby lulling me back into the dream scape.

Morning comes stumbling and its only the rapid movements via the aid of coffee and domestic routines that seem to capture the life back into me. A clean house makes the mind seem to be less chaotic. Dishes in the dishwasher instead of in the sink, a made bed, clothes either stuffed lackadaisically in the drawers or hung neatly in the closet. Not that it matters much to me either way, I have no qualms with wrinkled clothing.

A reward came with a very unhealthy breakfast this morning, which will likely stay in my belly and in my soul until dinner time. Hopefully this evening will be a productive one and I'll be able to fall asleep again with a calm conscience. But it's always the four o'clock wake up call that I can rely on. Maybe I should just go to bed two hours earlier and start my day at four the way that old ladies do. If I had a garden, this would be the perfect time to water it. The winter has been unkind to my potted plants, and I look forward to balmier weather so that I might be able to start a new brood of chlorophyll colored children.

My office feels lonely today. I need the companionship of a fish swirling in a fish bowl or a plant that I might talk to. From what I understand its good for the chi.

meditations

Underneath a nebulous sky
A soft breeze carried orange leaves
Dancing, swirling on their own sojourns
Leaving behind their mother trees.

The air was full of electricity
Nature's way of changing her gown
Despite the rustling and calls of birds
There was not a single sound.

Take in a breath of the humid air
Let it pass through heart and soul
Allow the wind's gentle affection
To help you find what makes you whole.

A quiet mind is rare indeed
And sometimes requires Gaia's aid
For all the love that she can give
Is the reason that the earth was made.

Animals find it an easy task
To find peace and serenity
When the breeze carries those fallen leaves
Is how one can touch infinity.

on life

The timeless present is all we had
Eternal peace, the sought after fad
We can leave it up to Sir Galahad
To find infinity, to make us glad.

But life is brief and so are we
To think otherwise would cost the fee
Of our blinking lives and forgotten glee
The peace of it all would make us free.

Encompassed in a prison of fear
We look for answers to draw us near
Finding the answers seemingly crystal clear
It's hard to make out, so hard to hear

What to make of the time where we spend
So much of our lives to make amends
And make connections, our dearest friends
Who would see us all through until our end.

But what maketh the life we live
Except that hourglass designed to sieve
The sands of time, the falling leaves
Time passes on we must believe.

The moment lasts on but stays so brief
Like the orange tree with its falling leaf
To change back into that earthen sheath
What we walk on conceals the earth beneath

This life, experience it is our shade
That shelters us, its our facade
Of whatever more that must be said
For some it will come to a head

And shower us with knowledge of our past
Future and present, they never do last
But to find everlasting love that is cast
Will make aware our reasons so fast.

Or perhaps we fall with lost memory
Our bodies collecting in such harmony
With the earth and all her misery
She collects us all so delicately

To paint the world as it comes into view
Shades of verdant greens and crystal blues
A cycle that makes it all forever new
To think that death could make us through.

Our corporal realms are what we trust
They make us happy, they make us lust
But whats beneath gives us the ultimate thrust
Into infinity in which we trust.

Dark chore

one, two, then sometimes three
the rib count is only a piece of me
they find when searching in innocent hug
they bring me in, they sometimes tug.

To see how much of me is left
Before they postpone that eminent bereft
Feeling they may find if I demise
While I disappear before their very eyes

The flesh is only an outer shell
Each part I shed of a personal hell
Like snake skin I shed a little more
Its why I take on this painful chore

To make the internal seem so real
A pain that's not what I want to conceal
Because each part of me I shed
Is a symbol of what has come to head

Its not the outside I want to rid
Instead the pain concealed within
If the external can leave before I do
Then maybe I'll find that inevitable clue

Of what will make me whole again
Naked like Eve with her original sin
Kamikaze am I on the battlefield
Fading away is only part of the shield

Its not the way I wanted to fight
But perhaps the only way I might
Fight external forces on the battlefield
And with it comes that iron force shield

If only that layer in me could be cracked
Then the demons in battle might soon be sacked
And pillaged like my minions within my soul
If they can be reached maybe she would be whole

Again if in the past she ever was
To find the answer is her greatest cause
It would be preferable to not end in defeat
And find my body a slab of meat

To rot away in premature style
I'm still so young, I haven't had a while
To think about this life we all lead
Instead obsessed with this devil's creed

That fights with me each every day
A struggle with him, and I'm forced to slay
Him on my own, its what I do
And unrecognizable he'll be when I'm through

Content within my own white skin
Perhaps I'll have a chance to begin again
And find what makes me whole once more
Instead of catering to this painful chore.

Good morning

At first it was darkness
Cloudy thoughts, disorientation
Two slits open and reveal
lightness. sharpness.
The world slowly comes into view.
Shades of beige, gray, and blue.
A hand lays limp on a soft
pillow. A mattress.
That limp hand reaches for you.
Light spills in to reveal
mini blind shadows cast
horizontally into view.
Perhaps these eyes might see
your lovely face at last.
A wakeful yawn makes its
animal call into the air.
The eyes explore,
But you aren't there.
An alien body raises itself,
Sometime between dream
and awake. And one
by one feet carry it down stairs
Smells of bacon, coffee, eggs
fill the air.
A cat circles those feet
spreading her feral scent
a gesture both possessive and sweet.
The room blurs into view
and beyond the steam of coffee
and the chaos of bacon popping
is the vision of you.
It is not until I see this that I feel right.
A halo of morning light.

Good morning.

Phenomenal Woman

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

clover frost

Someone had frosted the earth while she slept
Crystals of ice gleaming
Someone had disturbed the night and crept
So secretly and ever so silently.

Clover and grasses wearing nature's jewels
Too fast for the eye to see
In their shiny wagons they fly by like fools
They don't know what they're missing.

One pays attention to nature's decoration
And it thrills her to the core
Everyone so distracted by intended destinations
And she was stationary wanting more.

At the very least she would finally arrive
To a quiet locale that is still
A serene place where she can feel alive
Breaths of steam, such a thrill.

Exhausted by exhaust and others' apathy
But freed by the anticipation
Of meeting a friend so dear to her heart
Makes winter's frost seem to fall apart.

And all is warm and abloom and bright
Until that day is over
And she must say to him good night
So the frost can cover more clover.

my dearest sweetest flower

From an unlikely source came new love,
Emerging quietly like a flower.
Blossoming, tenderly, effectively
Until it shows its true color.

A color that has remained unused on my canvas of life until now.

From a gentle friend, a new love emerged
And infiltrated my quiet heart.
Pure in motive and genuine
This flower has no tricks from the start.

It means to color my canvas and add new inspiration, love and companionship.

Some encounter weeds, they use
Every bit of nourishment that we can give
But this flower means no harm to me
This flower's intentions are for me to live

A life filled with friendship and love and colored coated nourishment.

Where were you sweet flower when I searched
So far in need of your fragrant aroma?
Not anywhere could you be found
Not searching the vast deserts down to Verona

And now I know where to find you.
And you know how to find me.
But we dream underneath a different sky.

This flower's true color shines from love
And passion and depth alone.
No harm will come to pass me if I pick this flower.

Of all the beauties I have come across in the fields of love
One flower shines above all else.
I feel stronger, wiser, and calmer than all else.

I want to find you flower if you still seek me
Waiting for that fragrance that surrounds you
We shall meet and if our joining is meant to be
Our love will be solidified in the wood.

You're the only flower that will be the key.
I have cultivated so many, unresponsive flora
If I nourish you, will you nourish me?
My dearest sweetest flower.

Take all I have to give,
Let me take from you what you are willing
Then the two of us can go blissfully on
No longer searching for holes in us that need filling.

And I wait
I contemplate
And would never alienate
My dearest, best friend, flower.

Down in the dark

Lyrics to my newest song I've learned. You might have heard before....

Em                  Am            Em
Now is the hour when frogs and thrushes
Em                  Am            Em
Praise the world from the words and rushes
Bb               Em               Bb
Sleep my love, my only dear, in the dark

Em                   Am
Fragile and magical shadows
Em                 Bb
Silently start to appear
Em                  Am
Lovely and lyrical, silvery miracle
Em         Bb
Charlotte’s web

Em                      Am
Carefully spinning her tracings
Em                 Bb
Lacy and gracefully sheer
Em                Am                       
Over and under, then infinite wonder of
Em          Bb
Charlotte’s Web

G                                 F      C
Why is she spinning and weaving away all night long
G                    F       C
Why is she trying so hard to convey
C               D
With her silent song

Em                      Am
Sometimes when somebody loves you
Em                Bb
Miracles somehow appear
Em                    Am 
And there in the warp and the woof is the proof of it
Em         Bb
Charlotte’s web

The Egg Tree and the Fox's Quest

Sometimes it is difficult to know that what we have always wanted, we have had all along. This was an important lesson that a young fox named Rory learned many years ago. You see, Rory was no ordinary fox. Unlike the kinds of foxes that you and I are familiar with, Rory was born from an enchanted tree that grew eggs the way that some trees grow apples or oranges.

From this tree, many different animals were born. Some of these hatchlings were birds, some were cats, some were rabbits, and some of the larger eggs even hatched deer. Every spring, the eggs would grow and then the creatures would hatch from their eggs and find their mothers to take care of them.

Overlooking this tree was a very wise owl named Harmony. She was the guardian of the tree and made sure that no danger would ever come to any of the eggs. Occasionally a snake or a weasel would try to make their way up the tree and steal the eggs before they hatched, but old Harmony was always quick to protect the brood before any danger came to them.

One particular spring after all the eggs had hatched, and all the baby animals had found their mothers, one last egg remained. This egg was Rory the fox, and Rory loved being inside his egg so much that he did not want to come out. Finally when the weather turned warm, Rory decided that he would crack open his egg and see the big outside world that awaited him. When he climbed out however, not one other egg remained, and no mother fox could be found to take care of him.

Immediately, Harmony the owl took notice of poor Rory, and decided that she would take care of him until he could take care of himself. So for many weeks while Rory grew, he lived high in a treetop in a large owl’s nest. Harmony would bring fish for Rory so that he could grow into a strong and clever fox. Harmony grew to love little Rory very much, and Rory was grateful that he was being taken care of.

However, a curiosity began brewing within Rory. He felt very different from his lovely and wise caretaker and wanted to find other foxes like him. Harmony knew that all the foxes had traveled far from the enchanted tree and it would be a difficult quest for Rory to find his kind alone. So, one afternoon, Harmony found a large red balloon for Rory, so that he could fly across the countryside and have a bird’s eye view of everything around him. “This will be the easiest way for you to spot other foxes,” Harmony said.

So, with a large red balloon tied around his belly, Rory “flew” across the countryside in search of his kind in hopes that this would make him happy. He saw many things during his journey that he had never dreamed of. Horses grazed in fields of green, and there were stone houses with smoke billowing from chimneys. He saw elk, and moose, and entire packs of wolves from below. Everyone he saw seemed to be so happy to be with their own kind. “I’m so lonely up here,” Rory thought, “Hopefully I will find some other foxes and finally be at home.”

Soon, a strong wind began to blow and the balloon was hurled over a city with many buildings. Rory had never seen such a sight in his life, and wasn’t sure what to make of it. As he passed over the city, a crow flew beside him and said, “Why you’re a funny looking bird. What on earth do you think you’re doing up here?”

“I’m searching for other foxes so that I can finally be at home,” Rory replied. The crow thought this was very funny and laughed to himself.

“Well you’re not going to find any foxes up here,” the crow said, “Why don’t I help you down to the ground so that you can find what you’re looking for. And with that, the crow pecked at the balloon until pop! Poor Rory was then flung down, down, down until he luckily landed in a soft pile of hay being carried by a wagon. Now Rory was certainly in a predicament. The wagon was being pulled by two large horses, and an old man with his granddaughter sat up front and steered the horses.

Rory was very afraid as he had never been so close to humans before, and without his red balloon he was sure that he would never be able to see any foxes and find a family of his own. When he landed in the hay, the granddaughter turned around to see what the noise was and saw the young fox cowering in the pile of hay. Immediately she pitied the fox, and knew that if her grandfather found him, that Rory would be in some serious trouble. She waited until the horses stopped at the farm and then quickly went to the back of the wagon while her grandfather went inside.

“How did you get into our wagon?” The little girl asked Rory, “You must have fallen from the sky. Here, let me take care of you, and maybe I can help you find your way home.”

“I’m looking for other foxes,” said Rory. “I am looking for a place to call home.”

“Well there are no foxes here,” said the girl, “We are farmers, and most farmers do not like foxes at all. But I will hide you in the barn for one night and then hopefully help you find who you’re looking for.” So, for that night, hungry and tired, Rory slept in a pile of hay in the barn. In the morning the girl returned. “How did you travel so far to get to our city?” The girl asked Rory.

“I flew,” said Rory, “My owl mother gave me a red balloon so that I would have a better view of the countryside.”

“Well that does seem like a good idea,” said the girl, “Here, take one of my balloons, and hopefully you will be able to continue on your journey. But I wonder, if you already have a mother, why do you want so badly to find another one? It sounds like she loves you very much, despite being an owl.” But regardless, the little girl tied the balloon around Rory’s belly and up, up, up he flew back into the cloudless sky.

Rory thought about the kind advice the little girl had given him, and he wondered if perhaps what he was looking for he already had. Harmony loved Rory like he was her own son, and even though she was not a clever fox, she was very, very wise. Rory began to miss Harmony, and wondered if he had made a mistake venturing so far from home.

At last however, Rory spotted a group of foxes down below. They were frolicking and playing in the long grasses of a meadow, their bushy tails wagging in the sunshine. They all looked very happy, and Rory forgot all about the advice the little girl had given him. Suddenly, his balloon got caught in a tree. Ordinarily, this would have caused trouble for most foxes, but since Rory was born from a tree, he was an expert tree climber. He left the balloon safely in the branches, and bounded over to where the family of foxes were playing.

“Who are you?” One of the foxes rudely snapped at poor Rory.

“You’re not part of our clan,” shouted another.

“My name is Rory,” said Rory, “I’m looking for other foxes just like me so that I have a place to call home. Won’t you be so kind as to let me play with you?”

“I am sorry,” said the mother fox,” but even though you are a fox just like us, you are a stranger here and are obviously from far away. You are very odd to us, and we cannot let you join us. Besides, we think that it is very strange indeed to see a fox flying with a balloon in such a way.”

“Well where I came from, flying is normal,” replied Rory.

“Perhaps,” the mother fox said,” you should go back to where you came from. It seems that maybe you had a home there already.”

Sadly, Rory climbed back up the tree, which the other foxes thought was immensely strange being that foxes do not climb trees. Rory fastened the red balloon over his belly once more and hoped that the breeze would take him back to where he came from. He was tired, hungry, and discouraged. He missed Harmony and her wisdom very much.

All night long the balloon floated through the air. Rory saw all sorts of night creatures on his journey under a blanket of stars. There were bats, and there were even other owls, but not his beloved Harmony. Finally, as the sun broke over the hillside, Rory noticed a familiar tree.

Rory’s eyes widened with excitement as he grew closer to this beautiful tree, ripe with fresh eggs that had yet to hatch. Hovering over the tree was the familiar wingspan of his old companion. With her wide, owl eyes, Harmony recognized the curious looking fox suspended from the balloon and flew over to him. She pulled the balloon back over to the large nest and Rory finally was able to settle down.

“Did you find what you were looking for, my dear Rory?”

“Well, yes I did. I saw all kinds of countryside and met all kinds of interesting creatures. I even found other foxes. But I realized that what I’m looking for is right here.”

Touched by his words, Harmony wrapped her large feathered wings around the young fox and hugged him tenderly. Rory had found his home, and had found the mother to take care of him.

In the months that followed, many eggs grew from the tree and hatched. Some of these eggs had rabbits, some had squirrels, and some even had deer. But now the eggs were especially safe because not only did they have a very wise owl watching over them, but they also had a clever little fox. Rory had finally found his home and his purpose in life.