This photo is reminiscent of the age-old conundrum: “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
This ‘split-second’ was alive, vibrant and noisy with the clucking of the colorful chickens at ‘The Aviary’ (Buttermilk Falls Inn, in Milton, NY), which holds several different kinds of birds, including a family of peacocks (I featured the “Leader of The Pack” in an earlier post).
As we strolled past, the denizens of the chicken coop became a-flutter with anticipation, expecting (no doubt) that we had some food for them. Au contraire…we were silently complimenting them for the lovely omelet that had been served to us earlier that morning, at the Inn.
I love the rural simplicity that this picture conveys, from the multicolored tulips in the foreground, to the hand-painted, peeling, wood sign reading: “Fresh Eggs”. It seems that the chicken, roosters, hens and tulips were hand-picked, mixed and matched to present a perfectly balanced color palette, against a bucolic, verdant backdrop.
The first time she was lost, an injured bird,
She’d wondered where she’d erred, how this could be,
Accepting blame, she bought in to ‘absurd’
With opened arms, the truth had set them free.
He looked into the mirrorwall; saw “he”,
She saw; minds had met, they’d saved the day,
The days becoming years, she let it be,
While (armed with new-found, longer leash) he played.
But even in the brilliant Milky Way,
Holes of nothing – black – may lay in wait,
A still, small voice within her cried and prayed,
Until with swanlike grace, she seized her fate.
She turned, abrupt, dismissive of his balking,
“She never looked back, she just kept walking.”
This was written specifically for the Speakeasy challenge #162, following these guidelines:
Your post must be dated May 25, 2013, or later.
Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
You must include the following sentence as the LAST line in your post:“She never looked back, she just kept walking.”
You must also include a reference to the media prompt, a video of a magical device that transport the amazed ‘discoverer’ to places of his choosing. A black hole wasn’t in his plans.
There was something surreal about driving north on the snow-covered NJ Turnpike with my mate of 38 years, en route to Manhattan for a meeting (interview); in the dead of winter, on a
Sunday morning!
Bob dutifully waited at “W” hotel, while I went to my meeting, treating himself to a birthday
breakfast. Rushing across Lexington, I deftly evaded a pigeon fluttering toward me, and managed to keep my footing on the icy crosswalk. Inside, my boot heels clicked conspicuously, echoing loudly as I approached the security guard on the other end of the (otherwise empty) lobby.
After signing in and posing for an ID photo, I stuck the self-adhesive name tag to the front of my well-pressed Pendleton suit. The elevator door squeaked closed and I was alone (praying that I wouldn’t be stuck in that claustrophobic box), mulling over the events that had led to this unlikely moment:
I’d undertaken the job search in October, and despite having taken early retirement from my career as Director of Supply Chain and Technical Procurement with ‘Big Pharma’, at 59 I wasn’t ready to retire. I didn’t ‘need’ another high level, stressful position that would require travel, and corporate politics. I’d already fulfilled my career aspirations, with all that implied. I’d surveyed the local job market and decided to lower my sights instead, toward a mid-management position. After all, I was a grandmother of two boys: My priorities had clearly shifted.
Friday had been a whirlwind round of interviews, that was to have to culminated in a meeting with the CEO. But he was ‘unavailable’ and I left, convinced that if they’d been interested, he would have made time for me.
Late that night, I received a phone call:
“Sure…Sunday morning…No problem….I’ll be there at ten am.” (I must be crazy)!
The elevator came to an abrupt stop and the door opened. The CEO was wearing an open-collared shirt and jeans, in stark contrast to my interview attire. The office was dark and quiet. We sat at one end of a large, oval table in a glass-walled conference room, called The Terrarium (I laugh now, as I recall that detail).
He was a likable, enthusiastic man, about 15 years my junior, and he spent the next two hours putting forth his vision, engaging in animated conversation, and using my three page resume as a white board to capture and embellish his idea maps. The result was worthy of a strategic marketing report. I had no concept of time passing. Neither did he.
No, I didn’t get the job; Manager of Contracts. Instead, I was offered a previously non-existent slot, that, within a few months, evolved into the Chief Procurement Officer position, reporting to (you guessed it) the ‘Sunday-in-Jeans” CEO. I spent the next seven years exploring previously untapped skill sets, while applying my construction, engineering and supply chain experience in ways and places that I never would have imagined.
On a snowy morning in December 2011, I faced him to give notice of my intentions. When he saw me in the doorway, he flashed a smile in my direction, launching into (now familiar) animated conversation. Then he stopped, realizing that I had something to tell him. Surprised at first, he refused to take my letter of resignation, pushing it back at me, unopened. Finally, he just let it rest, unopened, on his desk.
During the weeks and months that followed, his surprise gave way to acceptance and sincere well-wishes for a happy retirement.
On March 5, 2012, I retired from the corporate world, but I will never forget that very unusual and fortuitous meeting in the bleak mid-winter of 2005.
Though this post is the latest addition to my series, “An Engineer’s Journal”, I was inspired by “The Sunday Whirl“, suggesting that the writer incorporate the given words (a Wordle) into a post.
This photograph displays several counter-intuitive twists; from a vision of “La tour Eiffel” in winter, complete with ice skaters, to the miniaturization of the scene into a Christmas Ball. The third twist is that this street-sized, Christmas ornament was sitting, smack-dab, in the middle of France, at Epcot in Kissimmee, Florida – a place that is rarely witness to snowflakes. Both of these places hold a special place in my heart.
The twists and contradictions, Are gnawing at my brain, I see a fave, “La Tour Eiffel” Ice-draped in snow, not rain!
While massive scene is tiny, Within a Christmas ball, Instead of tiny ornament, This tableau’s standing tall.
The final twist, surreal-ic, It stands in tropic clime, In Epcot’s France, a man-made globe, Vacations are sublime.
Collection of pollen, pine needles and tree pods, resting on shingled eaves of country inn.
The first time, buds abloom romantics thrilled, The first time, bending, sniffing budding rose, The first time, whippoorwills their dusk-song trilled, The first time, promising return, we posed.
The last time, snowfall blocking sliders closed, The last time, snuggling closely, sipping swill, The last time, donning fleece ‘neath cozy throws, The last time, warming fires stilled the chill.
This time, we are here ‘tween winter’s close, This time, having passed the cusp of May, This time, rocking gently, nose to nose, This time, falling leaf pods we survey.
Collection: Pollen settling, shingled eaves, Time after time, renewal is reprised.
This was written for the 100-word challenge of Velvet Verbosity, inspired by a word on the last page of “The Book Thief”: Collection.
My thoughts align, begin to stratify,
The fog is gently lifted giving way
to clarity, these morning shores do gratify,
As grayish morn to colors give its way.
Beachside shaders line the closed cafe,
Reflecting vibrancy (though dormant) on the deck,
Mirror granite, window to the day,
Repeating billows, tall and straight, in check.
Stemlike parallels, neatly wrapped at necks,
Like stolid soldiers standing in a row,
Stacked upside in close formation, flecked
by flickering rays of dawning day, aglow.
Poised, their nighttime guard is soon dismissed,
They’ll open full to shade the sun’s bright kiss.
The Light and Shade Challenge
******
Written for Monday 19 May 2014, the light and shade challenge, using a photo prompt and the following quote:
“Until the day I die, I’ll never forget
those glassy, unblinking eyes.” they haunt me still,
Years were cut abruptly, I regret,
His callous satisfaction, feigned conceal.
To some he was a buddy, someone real
But I, a distaff staffer, stood outside,
I chuckled not at vulgar chats, but steeled
myself, though reddened cheeks I could not hide.
He, the victor, donned this pelt with pride
abroad his shoulder, flung his neck around,
He, the satyr, stomped the losing side,
But in the end, my spirit would rebound.
With dignity and hope I bid adieu
to quarter century: “Begin anew.”
Though this poem was inspired by my recollection of a man I once worked for (who took delight in facilitating my departure from his senior staff), it was written specifically for the Speakeasy challenge #162, following these guidelines:
Your post must be dated May 18, 2013, or later.
Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
You must include the following sentence as the FIRST line in your submission: “Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.”
You must also include a reference to the media prompt, the portrait of Oswalt Krel, by Albrecht Durer.
“Art ” isn’t just paintings and sculptures, it can be anything in which we find beauty and meaning – even food. Show us a thing, place, or person that’s a work of art to you.
Submitted to Weekly Photo Challenge. The theme was to, “attempt to capture a candid moment of a person, place, or thing.”
This was written specifically for the Speakeasy challenge #162, following these guidelines:
Though this post is the latest addition to my series, “An Engineer’s Journal”, I was inspired by “The Sunday Whirl“, suggesting that the writer incorporate the given words (a Wordle) into a post.
Opal Reflections 