Griddle Drum Solo

The rhythm of breakfast beats fast and furiously as the spatula hits the griddle. Voices hum along in early morning chatter as the plates and glasses clatter. Higher pitches from little stitches round out the sound with bright new ideas and just a smidgen of fidget.

The beat goes on as fathers and grandfathers laugh and listen to sons and daughters around the table; friends and neighbors who come when they're able.

The soloist taps with skill, as pancakes flap on the grill. Potatoes sizzle and onions drizzle. Sweet pungent flavor ready for patrons to savor.

The beat of the bacon and home-fried potatoes resounds through the room without any tune. The drummer's solo infuses the space adding nose-pleasing smells to early morning breakfast plates.

A cloudy day fades away, as the waitresses say to you, "Thanks for eating at Ruebens, Too!"

Imaginary Images

High above the roadway, through the windshield, beyond imagination and just out of grasp, giant white wonders exist.     Dinosaurs and ducks, angels and devils float into view, dissipating with every passing breeze. Whipped cream waffles line the sky; temping the taste buds with imaginary sweetness.     Dark masses gather in gloom and grayness, extending their depression over the city, ending at a seamless border.Translucent dimness diminishes the daylight.     Monet-like brush strokes give fame to their frame.Like the ocean upside down, they waft and rush across the horizon and over the landscape.     Large looming clusters shadow the space below like a blimp on it's way to nowhere.Dynamic distractions dive down, reaching out with teasing fingers, never touching the ground.      This "visible mass of condensed water vapor floating in the atmosphere" provides endless imagined images.

I conclude that clouds evoke more emotion and wonder than any definition can express.  

Look up in the sky: it's a bird, it's a plane, 

no, it's a cloud!

Pittsylvania County Virginia is clouded!

Fall Flash Mob

Who doesn't like an exiting flash mob?  

 

Colorful mobs of leaves first fall to the ground, floating and flitting.  

Soon they fit into their surroundings, 

relaxing passively on the ground.  

No longer attached to their life sustaining stems and limbs,

 the fluid leaves their once smooth surfaces.  

With the age of days, they crinkle and brown 

into crunchy light figures subject to the whims of the wind.

Then, the music of wind begins to play.  

The crescendo ascends brown leaves into a swirl of dancing dervishes.  

More and more mobbers join in the deftly planned performance. 

Spinning and floating inches from the pavement, 

others join in as the group swirls past. 

Jumping and dancing round and round, more and more 

leaves abound.

And, just as quickly as it began, like a good flash mob, 

the leaves disperse back into the crowd 

just as steathily as they had entered 

the silently spinning scene.

 

Mother Nature, 

flash mobbing in Pittsylvania County!