Trilby and the Roaring Rumbling Runaway River

He knew Spring was on the way, the ice was melting and the water began to move around him. He stretched his topmost fin and tested his swimming power. All systems in working order but now he had to eat. Too early for fishermen and their live bait and it was too early for the men from the fish hatchery. Trilby was always happy to see his new cousins pile out of that big noisy truck from the hatchery. Then the spring rains began and he had to swim for his life, the water was coming faster than he could swim so he relaxed under the hidden shelf of the riverbank and let it flow by him. The mother deer that lived in the neighboring woods came by with her fawn to have a drink; she spotted Trilby and winked at him. He did not want to leave his comfy hiding place, he knew if he ventured into the rushing water he would be pushed along so swiftly he might lose control and decided to try and for almost a day he let the water take him and the wooly bear that landed on his back onward. The caterpillar had wisely jumped to a leaf to keep her feet and fur dry and before they knew it, they were in the reservoir at West Boylston. Trilby looked around and saw some of his missing cousins who left home in Quinapoxet just before the freeze. They were glad to see him and took him to their favorite shelter under the shore away from people. Fishing was actually restricted at water supply lakes making this lake almost without fishermen and Trilby was very hungry. So his cousins took him to their secret eating-place. There were all kinds of mayfly nymphs waiting to hatch and be caught. It wouldn’t be long before the air would be alive with mayflies skimming over the water. Trilby’s friend Bill a favorite angler would soon be arriving with his boots and poles and fishing lures. He liked this man because he did not fish to feed himself but for the sport of catching a fish and each time Trilby was hooked on his lure, Bill reached down and carefully unhooked him setting him free. Part of the fun of being caught was to see the colorful flies that Bill made.

The brown trout cousins did not appreciate Trilby’s liking for this fisherman and decided to play a trick on both the man and the fish. A special place down by the pumping station had some big brown sticks that looked like fish so they pushed and shoved with all fins working until finally the sticks were arranged so that even Trilby thought they were ugly brown trout. He, of course was a Rainbow and proud of it.

A car stopped on the road above the reservoir and sure enough a fisherman came down the path whistling. Most fishermen whistle, there is something about fishing that makes men and boys happy, Trilby thought maybe that was one reason he did not mind being caught.

The fisherman, this time another Bill, got all his gear ready, waded into the water not too far from the fish-like branches that were so carefully positioned. He had a gleam in his eye, could not wait to get his lure into the water and catch one of those brown (branch) trout. The trick meant for Trilby was about to backfire. Bill’s boot hit one of the branches and when it did not swim away he realized he was being tricked. Then Trilby did one of his famous leaps out of the water just like Winslow Homer’s painting, diverting Bill’s attention; the day was saved! Trilby found more mayfly nymphs attached to the fake fish branches. The disgusted fisherman walked out of the water and made his way up the path, angry that he had been tricked. He drove away toward the river and left all those fish behind. He knew a better place to fish upstream of the reservoir. Where do you think that was? You are right! up the Quinnie River. Soon he was happy to see mother frog leading her tadpoles to their new home upriver. As they swam along people appeared at the entrance to the town well property. There was an opening in the bushes where they liked to come in the early winter for black alder berries and in summer to see the bottle gentian, a rare treat.And Trilby swam back up the stream to his hiding place under the shelf and continued to watch the world swim by.


J.P. NEALE

ANGER AND RESENTMENT

I

ANGER AND RESENTMENT

DO NOT A HAPPY PERSON MAKE

BUT IF YOU TAKE SOMEONE BY THE HAND

AND HOLD ON TIGHT

YOU MIGHT FIND THAT ALL THAT BAD FEELING

WILL DISAPPEAR OVERNIGHT.

THAT SOMEONE’S HAND MIGHT BE IN TOUCH WITH GOD

SO KEEP HOLDING ON

UNTIL THE ANGER IS GONE.

II

GOD KNOWS HOW MUCH YOU ACHE

AND FEELS YOUR PAIN FULL WELL

BUT HOLD HIS HAND AND BE PATIENT

HE’LL BEWORKING ON YOU FOR A SPELL.

III

SHARE YOUR HEART WITH OTHERS

UNTIL YOU CAN LET GO

AND THEN ANGER AND RESENTMENT

WILL BE BURIED IN WINTER’S SNOW.

BURIED OUT OF SIGHT

YOU CAN’T EVEN SEE IT

THE SNOW HAS PURIFIED IT AND

RELEASED YOU FROM ITS SIGHT.

SO CLEANSE YOUR HEART AND MIND

TILL ALL IS LEFT BEHIND

YOU’LL BE A BETTER PERSON

WITH CLEAN HEART AND MIND.

j.p. neale

written after experiencing another person's anger and resentment.

Credo

I can only tell you what I believe; I believe:

I cannot be saved by foreign policies.

I cannot be saved by the sexual revolution.

I cannot be saved by the gross national product.

I cannot be saved by nuclear deterrents.

I cannot be saved by aldermen, priests, artists,

plumbers, city planners, social engineers,

nor by the Vatican,

nor by the World Buddhist Association,

nor by Hitler, nor by Joan of Arc,

nor by angels and archangels,

nor by powers and dominions,

I can be saved only by Jesus Christ.

 
 
Daniel Berrigan (born 1921)

LOUISA

Louisa will help.



Words have dried up



In this desert of paper



Will I ever awake



And find the next caper?



Of course , it will come



You have Louisa to help



Your brain isn’t numb



And the files are not vapor.



So busy yourself



Get your fingers typing



Get down from the shelf



Take Louisa in hand



She will guide you back home



To finish Fruitlands.




JANE NEALE


Written while writing about an imaginary visit with Louisa May Alcott

The Place Where We Are Right

From the place where we are right

Flowers will never grow

In the spring.



The place where we are right

Is hard and trampled

Like a yard.



But doubts and loves

Dig up the world

Like a mole, a plow.

And a whisper will be heard in the place

Where the ruined

House once stood.


Yehuda Amichai

WANDERING THOUGHTS

ONE OF THE LASTING IMPRESSIONS I HAVE

OF THE HOLOCAUST

IS A SHORT FILM

OF A YOUNG BOY

SITTING ON A TABLE

SHAKING

SHIVERING

HE WAS BEING SUBJECTED

TO REPEATED BLOWS

ON THE HEAD

TO STUDY THEIR EFFECTS

HE WAS A JEW

A NON-PERSON

USELESS AS A STONE

THROWN IN A LAKE

RINDS OF MELON

THROWN IN THE GARBAGE

TOOLS TO BE USED

TILL THEY BREAK

THEN DISCARDED

IT WOULD BE NICE TO THINK

THAT IT HAPPENED

IN ANOTHER PLACE

IN ANOTHER TIME

BUT IT’S HAPPENING NOW

AND HAS HAPPENED NOW

WHILE DIVES DINES

LAZARUS DIES

LIKE A PIECE OF PAPER

A TOY OF THE WIND

PLAYED WITH

THEN FORGOTTEN

WHEN WILL YOU COME

LORD JESUS

WHEN WILL YOU COME

TO RESCUE US FROM OURSELVES

TO GIVE DIGNITY TO DIRT

WATER TO DRY LAND

VISION TO THE BLIND

DREAMS TO THE DUNG HEAP

AWARENESS OF THE NEEDS OF OTHERS

AND A HELPING HAND

FRANK A VOLLMER

THINK ABOUT IT

We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty. Mother Teresa

We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty. Mother Teresa