Rainbow sun smiles on Christmas Eve Families decorate their dead Festive scenes of joy for those Now ghosts of Christmas past Who rejoice in silence over love Shared by those who don’t forget Loved ones who were, and will always be In their thoughts, their hearts, their memories
Watch colors in cold Nineteen in my underwear Package is frozen
Pre-Beaver Moon Rising. I was in a parking lot. There is going to be a 500-year eclipse tonight way past my bedtime.
Hey! Beaver! Yoo-hoo! There’s going to be a Beaver Moon tomorrow night, eleven nineteen twenty-one. And a Beaver eclipse in the wee hours this morning. It’s going to be a hoot!
Oh! Really? A Beaver Moon you say? Is that like when Benny Beaver lifts his tail and shows use his beaver behind? I don’t want to be eclipsed. My hair is too short already. Nineteen? It was cold this morning.
No! You dimwit. The MOON! You know that big shiny thing in the sky? Eclipse is when the moon gets dim, like you. It has nothing to do with clippers! It was cold this morning.
Vultures on their break Skeptics no concern Spirits dissolved in daylight The dead can wait their turn Nighthawks played in streaming sunlight Teasing out blue moon Thunder sounded unseen strikes Branches broken fell asunder Fractured limbs will never heal Distant sirens temptress sighs Coyotes mournful cries Hummers feed on orange blossoms Hairstreaks purple feed on yellow Rubbing flanges one up one down Attached to shades of blue A Predator took the bait
I finished recording a new original song on Sunday. Gabriela at Short Prose Blog, asked me if I was going to send her a poem, so I sent here Canonical Day, and told I had been working on the music. She wanted the song also, but didn’t say for what reason in her replies. Now that I have the computer I use for recording back, I checked to see where I was on the song. I had gotten the “Ticktock” sound for the clock created and that was it. I spent most of Sunday recording and assembling tracks. Tonight I added a little bit of synth to the recording after Marina mentioned she would probably add synthesizer. I had done a lead guitar track, but decided it detracted too much and took it out. The synth I added is subtle and it seems to work.
In case you don’t know what a Canonical Day is, it’s the liturgical hours of the day defined as follows:
Vigil – eighth hour of night: 2 a.m. Matins – a later portion of Vigil, from 3 a.m. to dawn. Lauds – dawn; approximately 5 a.m., but varies seasonally. Prime – early morning, the first hour of daylight, approximately 6 a.m. Terce – third hour, 9 a.m. Sext – sixth hour, noon. Nones – ninth hour, 3 p.m. Vespers – sunset, approximately 6 p.m. Compline – end of the day before retiring, approximately 7 p.m.
The poem came to me while I was listening to a lecture on theology. I was thinking, while monks get up at Vigil or Matins to pray, I get up at Matins to pee in a nightly Vigil after the kitties have stomped across my bladder. That gave me the idea to write a poem using the Canonical Hours based on a general day in a life. The poem has one or two Canonical Hours per verse, or perverse, depending on how one wants to look at it. After I got the verses down, I decided to add choruses and make a song out it.
I’m happy I took the time to record the song on Sunday as Gabriela has good intentions for both the poem and the song.
Canonical Day By Timothy Price
Bombed at Vigil kitties in the night Matins listens Owls Hoot under moon’s light
Lauds wakens Dawn Throw off covers Spread colors Reds, pinks, yellows Tugs on sun lights blue skies
Primetime rise Face another day Lost in ironic phases Teeth comb hair Sad and pretty faces
[Chorus] Sacred routines never fail Hundreds, ten, thousand times Begins each day a blessed right Immortality of the whole
[RAP] Terce it all coffee’s cold Virtual whistles blow Tap on keys, boxes packed, Phone music Plays on hold
Sext at last Satisfies Food fantasy Peanut butter tofu chicken Thirty minutes of ecstasy
Nones dear coffee’s cold Eyelids weigh a tonne Ninth hour sleepy time For Heaven’s sake stay awake
[Chorus] Sacred ways never fail Hundreds, ten, thousand times As each day goes by some insane Immortality of the whole
Vapors rise at vespers Dinners hot-cold served Debates circles tables World made right For an instance
Compline pulls on covers Sun tucked in welcomes night Bedtime lost videos play Medianoche greets another day
[Chorus] Sacred darkness never fails Hundreds, ten, thousand times Conjures spirits Ether Immortality of the whole
Spunk @ Compline
As a dry and dusty storm blew in this afternoon, the temperature dropped from 82ºF to 59ºF from one hour to the next. The sun managed to throw a slight bit of red on the clouds at the horizon as a last hurrah before slipping into to its sunny slumber.
The moon got a sepia tone from the thin layer of clouds catching what color they could from the setting sun.
I buried a raccoon pup at dawn Found him by the steps Heartless and emptied Secretly sacrificed Under half-moon? Rose at two Such a mystery
With last rites fitting any innocent soul Tucked in under spadefuls of sandy soil Laid to rest, secured for eternity A spark of life lit Snuffed, sacrificed So much misery
The poem above was inspired by a poor baby raccoon, gutted and left near our doorstep. I don’t know what killed it, but it seemed very sacrificial. I’m packing several day’s worths of photos into this post because of the possibility that other things will come up, and many of the photos not get posted.
Click on the galleries below to see a slideshow of the photos in their correct aspect ratios.
Grosbeaks, Hummer, and Towhee the Line
I am Wood Duck hear me roar!
Got Your Goose and Goslings with Cormorant
Cooper’s Hawks’ Hanky Panky
Fuzzette, Major Tom Peppers out of the nest with Mona Lisa and Sleeping still in the nest, Mama Owl, Daddy Owl, Daddy Owl, Mama Owl, Daddy Owl
A hummer flew above the clouds
Surveyed life below
Back and forth, up and down
Erratic movements buzzed
Paused against gray sky’s hold
Suspended looking down
Next instant released
Fell into a frolic
Rummaged through the weeds