RETURN TO THE ZOO

 

It is a happy day, a very happy day. Yet, do you remember it was not always that way? 

A bug called Covid crawled in and everyone stopped calling, for days and days and days. 

But did you ever see it? I never did, the bug I mean, yet it disturbed our lives in so many ways. I hoped I could find it and trample it beneath my feet and life could return again for us once more. 

The staff kept on washing and washing every one of us and every house in the Zoo. I used to love a bath and a good scrub, but you can have too much of a good thing. Old Crocodile became quite crotchety every time they asked him to open his mouth for a spray. I for one had to warn everyone to keep out of his way. 

The monkeys drove us to distraction with their noisy frustrations, as the public stayed away and it was yet another extra banana-free day. 

My friend, the giraffe, kept parading around, searching and searching, head held high, trying to see further than anyone else, reporting back, “Even with my most excellent vision, apart from the staff, there is no one to see.” 

Mr Lion stopped his constant roaring as there was no one to impress; he was so depressed. We asked Mrs Turtle if she could explain, as she was the oldest and wisest of us all. “Mrs Turtle, do you know what is going on?” 

Her reply calmed us a bit, “I remember a long time ago something similar happened. It seemed to last forever; then one day, Mr Snake announced it had gone as the public were starting to queue to come in. Even the ice cream vans had started to deliver, ringing out their appearance once again.” 

As an elephant, I too will never forget the arrival and departure of that terrible Covid bug. And the day the Zoo returned to normal, it was great and, oh boy, did we celebrate. 

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

WELCOME! YOU ARE BACK!

 

We arrived back to our New Zealand home for a 5-month stay.

Here we are known as ‘swallows’ because we come in summer and leave before winter.

During this time we live very different lives, with different friends and interests.

After a couple of days of non-stop sleep, I became aware of the wonderful bird song coming from all directions around the house and garden, very different from our English bird chorus.

My heart thrilled to the very distinctive calling of the Tui.

They are unusual birds, who are almost able to produce the sounds of a whole orchestra by themselves, lots of clicks, whistles and bangs.

They are wonderful to listen to and very handsome to look at in their dark blue, green and bronze plumage, with white ruffs around their necks and a blob of pure white feathers under their chins.

I went onto the deck as was my custom to call a greeting to them.

‘Hello Mr. Tui, hello Mr. Tui, Tui.’

Sometimes if I’m lucky they call back.

However this time, we were interrupted by a frantic repetitious crying, getting nearer and nearer.

I looked down and saw my neighbour’s silver-grey cat running up their path calling loudly as she ran.

She made a leap and clawed her way up the wooden fence, paused for a moment and jumped down.

The crying became louder and louder as she rushed up the stairs and threw herself at my feet, rubbing my legs still crying.

I was very touched and said ‘Oh Dumpling you have remembered our friendship after 18 months.

What an amazing cat, you are just so clever!’

I chatted to her patting and smoothing her coat gently.

We had been unable to come last year due to family reasons back in the UK.

Dumpling and I shared this very special greeting. Before she climbed up onto my lap and settled herself down.

After a while purring contentedly she fell asleep as she is now an old lady.

Looking down at her, I hoped we would be able to share many more companionable times during this visit.

Hopefully, as she is an old cat, help her to fight off younger contenders for her territory especially at night.

© Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

HAPPY ENDING

 

When out shopping, we saw a poor dog in a fix. He was running scared to and fro dashing, across the roads, as fast as he could go.

You feel helpless as a looker-on waiting, with cars sharply braking, dog terrified and shaking.

People gasping, pleading, dog arms quickly evading, lead trailing in the desperate act of escaping.

Soon trapped in between cycles penned, exhausted, lying down wondering how it will all end.

Eyes watching, long-distance anxiously gazing, lips trembling, curling showing fear and mistrusting.

A man arrives running, calling, arms waving, glad cries and the dog’s tail starts, it's frantic wagging.

They come together in a charge of mutual delight, the man looks him all over and asks ‘Is He all right?’

‘Thanks a million to you all, as this dog means more to us, then we can possibly say.’

Then with lead in hand and a backward wave, they set off together happily on their way.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THE TOUCH OF SUMMER

 

When wandering out onto the deck,

To feel the sun and wind collectively.

Testing if warm enough to hold my ground,

To be bathed in the tang of the sea.

Nostrils tantalised by orange blossom scent,

Freely flowing around and around.

With bees singing,

Their buzzing collecting song.

The wind lifted my hair lightly to cool my scalp,

What bliss I am unable to resist.

So stand wallowing in contentment,

At the first hint of a Touch of Summer.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

INTERESTING TIME

My typewriter is more or less, behaving in a fashion of it's own. So I will try to carry on where I left off yesterday, after the fiasco of the rooms.

As we had arrived a day early, my husband and I set off up the street to investigate the village. We were accompanied by a wasp out on manoeuvres, to dodge it we jitterbugged up the street, till it found someone more interesting to follow. 

Walking in a more relaxed manner, we made our way to the seafront and a pond where the children were having great fun sailing their boats. A young dog barked wanting to join in.

Hunger pangs soon sent us in search of somewhere nice to eat. Accompanied by the strident seagull cries and their low above-head swoops, we found just the right place and had a delicious meal, quietly by ourselves.

Back at the hotel, I took the lift, while my husband ordered a paper for the morning. Leaving the lift, I found myself in the staff quarters and could see no way out. I re-entered the lift, back up to him. He looked at me with an amused expression. I said 'I thought I would come back for you in case you manage to get lost.'

The next day the rest of our friends joined us, to complete our sad mission, laying our dear friend to rest, in a nearby village. It was a beautiful day and everything went according to plan.

On our return to the hotel, we split up into two groups there were thirteen of us and set off for a walk. It allowed us to catch up on news, before returning to change for dinner. It was a very nice meal with good company, after which we retired to bed.

A lovely time was had by one and all. Not quite true, as the road outside the hotel was a one-way street, with cars parked along one side of it. 

Some late-arriving guests had the misfortune to have a breakdown on the free road. They had attempted to move the car the night before to no avail. A recovery van had been sent. In the meantime, no one could move the cars which they had parked there.

The decision to have breakfast was taken, we had such a hilarious time, none of us noticed the car being dragged back to the main road.

Soon it was time to say goodbye, see you soon have a safe journey. In beautiful weather my husband and I set off for home, only to be held up for ages at the Dartford Crossing.

Eventually, we made it and had a nice cup of tea while we sat and reviewed the extended weekend.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THE BLACK HAT TALE

 

I am a donkey called Fernando, living with a lovely man in the coastal hills of Spain. Sometimes on my journeys, I can see, when up a hilltop, a huge amount of water they call the sea. 

Strange, as very few people I know have been there or seen it, except from up here, when we pause each day, on the highest hilltop, to rest and have a drink and some hay. I gazed towards the sea, wishing I could visit one day. 

The day when it came was so exciting: my owner had a rich nephew who had phoned with an invitation. “Come on down to the seaside. I will pay; it is fiesta day.” 

My owner’s face lit up in excitement, which quickly faded away. 

“Thank you, my nephew. I have to humbly say no. I have Fernando, my donkey, to look after. I cannot leave him and go, as there are wild dogs here and they would hurt him, I know.” 

“Bring him with you. I will send a truck to give you both a ride. Fernando will be safe in my stable with Marie, my donkey, and we can join the fiesta, with music, horses and noisy marching bands. We can walk together on the golden sand with Marie and Fernando running freely in and out of the water, and rolling in delight, wildly on the sand. Marie knows how to be safe in the water; she will take Fernando in hand.” 

“Ok, we will come.” 

“Stay the night with me,” the nephew said. “Then we can celebrate without worry if we drink one drink more than planned.” 

So my owner washed me down, brushed me like mad, and polished my reins and brass bits until they looked the best they ever had. Then he brought a lovely black hat to me, which he said had a story to tell. 

It fell out of the sky during a terrible gale and landed at his feet. He tried to find the owner, but failed. So he kept it in the cupboard in case someone might like to wear it. 

“That day has now come. I am going to give it to you to wear. I will cut holes for your ears and tuck flowers in the headband. You will become Fernando, one of the most handsome donkeys in this land.” 

A year later, the nephew rang again, “Uncle, it is fiesta time again. Please come with Fernando. I will send a lorry for you both, just like last time.” 

My old man sighed deeply, as he did not imagine he would be asked again. It had been a very hard year for Fernando and him. He drew himself up, saying, “Yes, nephew; we will come.” 

Next day, after being groomed very thoroughly, and with a case with all that we both needed, we were loaded onto the lorry for our trip to the seaside. I was led to the stable where Marie greeted me in excitement, leaning out her head, hee-hawing, “Hee-haw, hee-haw.” 

I replied in a language only we understood. Suddenly, I stopped in puzzlement, as another young voice called from the stall. 

The nephew opened the stable door, saying, “This is the surprise I have had for you both. Marie has a foal called Miranda. I have been longing to tell you, but decided to wait till fiesta day came around once more.” 

So, as a lovely family united, we set off, with my black hat firmly in place, ready for a great family fiesta day out. 

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Daniela Silvia Serban

SAND PLAY

 

As a child, I played on the sand in Scotland.

With giggles and laughs and spade in hand.

Pressing pebbles down to disappear out of sight.

In later years I’d see, the sand pressed into bricks

Laid end to end and sealed with cement to make it stick.

Walls we would call them then.

Into homes, they would start to blend.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

TIDAL FLOW

 

I sit to watch you trickling in, gently lapping over everything.

Feet covered, by the ebb and flows gentle caress.

A step back, if that is all you wish to accept.

A great splash if more boisterous fun is their request,

Until ankle-deep into the sand, you sink.

When your pull is reversed, sadly it is time to go.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

SOOTHING SOUNDS

 

Oh to be at the beach today

Very early when no one is about.

To walk along the water's edge

With feet being chilled and caressed

By saltwater drenching and movement of sand.

Releasing trapped problems to be in the moment

To privately be in touch with your inner self.

With a breeze strong enough to caress thought changes

Seagulls challenging voices encourage you on.

Oh there is nothing quite like a sea edge stroll

To make you feel invigorated and to strengthen the soul.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

VISUALLY AMAZING

 

We turned a corner, a gasp I had to give!

There were large helium balloons with their dangling baskets at different stages of take-off.

All shapes and sizes floating by on mass, with blasts of hot air forcing them upwards assisting the lift.

A few more, blasts before silently you arose like giant dandelion seeds, dwindling in size.

Floating off in one’s, and two’s filling the brilliant sky.

The artistry of colour decorated the balloons as you floated by. Giving us a glimpse of entering an artist's attic.

It would be hard to choose the best, as they rose dipped and swayed.Till the competition had run its course.

Landings were not always neat, but laughter and help were there at hand.

To flatten and roll your balloon canopy into its basket, after a brilliant out this World experience.

We tucked the whole vision, into our memory chest to be pulled on a miserable day, as we drove our way home.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

TO THE DESERT

 

Desert of deadly heat and freezing cold, entices to trap you there.

Where if unlucky, your where about’s may never be told.

Yet within these extremes, life still goes on from the tiniest creature to the big and strong.

Your beauty has captivated poets, writers, singers of songs.

As spectacular coloured visions, appear at dawn and dusk to dazzle the eye.

With the wind playing music, carried in the sighing of shifting sand.

Painters, Photographers, Explorers have to risk life and limb to capture and write a truly lasting descriptive vision and love of you.

Though I have been to deserts before, seeking wonders I can no longer through age truly explore.

Tourism allows me to be transported to swelter in a tent in the heat of the day.

Night temperature drops freezing me wrapped in a blanket, as I stare upwards in wonder at the expanse of your star-studded amazing and thought-provoking black sky.

It is our duty as writers, to share our experiences with those adventurous hearts less able to travel.

Please keep your pens, stories, and information flowing in new books, to help less able thrill seekers' imaginations to keep going.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THE FIRST PANORAMIC VIEW

 

The first panoramic view took my breath away.

I can hardly believe I am going to spend time here.

As I move towards the door, 

Scanning left and right breathing deeply.

Emptying my lungs of city air 

And brain from tackling difficult conversations 

Requiring answers I still do not have.

Just being there allows me to start to feel alive.

I am almost scared of opening the door 

And having feelings dashed.

Taking another look around at the view,

I turn the key and walk in.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

BROODING MENACE

 

The setting sun, full of gentle remembrances and fun, being chased by a brooding menace as thunder and lightning had begun. 

The gentle sunset being devoured with such terror, as the earth beneath shook and writhed, chasing humans to seek shelter. 

In their choice of high or low their lives hung, as homes and all they knew were shredded. The battle raged as the ocean rose and swept all before everything being upended. 

Terror stalked those who still lived, as lightning struck and thunder roared and the sea covered all before. Fearfully, those who still survived prayed that this brooding menace would soon go. 

So, in time and worldly cycle, the battle waned and unsettled day began to show. Life stirred, as people searched for family, beloved pets and neighbours well known. 

Silence and cries of sorrow were heard by many that first day, before sirens and calls of, “Anyone there?” As rescuers arrived, cries of joy permeated the air. 

As survivors returned to what might be left of their homes, where strangers waited to welcome them with water, food, clothes, bed and board. For others, more permanent arrangements had to be made and another place found to call home. 

As life in any traumatic situation has to go on. 

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THINKING WITH MY BRAIN

 

Thinking with my brain, not moving from the spot, taking you with me for a short educational hop.

Lie down, relax, close your eyes; let’s go.

How about a Caribbean island? 

A sun baked place, with soft breezes rustling music from the coconut tree leaves, and hot, silvery sand needing swift ambling to cool feet in the warm, lapping sea.

To lower yourself into the water is as comforting and slightly cooler than an energy-raising bath.

There you can look down and see small, coloured fish nibbling your toes, or swimming between braced knees, a truly colourful show.

The odd shelled crab hurrying out of your way, to bury itself in the sand out of sight.

Shells of all sizes left by previous owners lie decorating the sandy floor.

Breathing in the frangipani fragrance wafting over us from the shore, do you feel yourself relaxing, letting your troubles float gently away?

Floating, floating, floating; what bliss this is.

Wow…! 

That was a flash of lightning from an approaching grey thunder cloud, letting us know it is time for us to leave and embrace reality where we both really live.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

I SAT

 

I sat on the beach, 

With the warming blush of pink from the sunset,

Changing the colour of my skin.

As my mind ranged in wonder at the change within.

I reduced my breathing slowly,

Allowing anxiety to slip away.

I did not want to retain it.

I had had quite enough for one day.

The beauty parading before me released feelings,

I had kept desperately hidden inside.

Now, cleansed by the ocean’s whispering ebb and flow,

Diminishing and whisking them 

Into the approaching night sky.

The brush of a breeze, soft and gentle, 

Lifted damp strands of hair.

As the sounds of life all about me inched their way in.

How glad I am to have sat bathed 

In the sunset of the dying day.

Making me more human before stepping confidently away.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THE MOVING BUSH

 

In the silence of the early morning arising, I sat writing, greeting Facebook friends, when a fluttering noise halted what I was doing. 

As I looked out the window and listened, the bush outside came alive. 

A flock of sparrows, too many to count, were interested in something inside the inner branches. 

From time to time, one popped out, immediately finding a way back in. 

A quarrel occurred now and then and two of the birds would burst into view, only to retreat quickly out of sight. 

The chattering noise was so lovely to hear, but did not last long. 

As suddenly as if on command, the bush became alive with lots of sparrows with much to say, struggling their way out, lining up as a squadron and flying away. 

It made me realise that sparrows used to be a very common sight in my garden. Not any more! 

So I was delighted with this visit, which showed there are still quite a few around. 

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

WRITER

 

WHY WRITE

 

The love of writing and storytelling is the driving force that propels us to put our work out.

So I am sure like me, you write for love if it soars wonderful.

If not you leave a footprint on life for others to read in the future, at the edge of a small pond.

© 2023 Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

SEASHORE

 

Walking along the seashore,

Dodging the waves that rush in.

Snatching a piece of seaweed

I have been told tastes divine.

Peering into pools of entrapment,

Looking to see who is waiting for the next tide,

To rescue them free with a swish and a splash.

Pebbles when wet can be real beauties,

Till they are exposed and dried by the air.

They need frequent sea washing to keep,

A beauty that won’t cloud and fade.

When throwing stones to skim the water,

The angle you use has to be just right.

If you have an eye for decoration,

Driftwood and shells are there.

Providing a temptation to make

Something colourful and bright,

To cheer up a dark, cold, stormy night.

Walking the seashore is a delight!

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THE RIGHT TO WRITE

 

How our pens long to right the wrongs, to restore sanity to where it belongs.

Bringing smiles once more into view, allowing again tasks we used to naturally do.

Returning songs so divine to birds, who have flown away and been silent all this time.

Calming dogs and children who cower in fear, at any unexpected noise heard quite near.

Write we must encourage peace, to return strongly and walk once again fearlessly amongst us.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

ECHO´S FROM BEACHES PAST

 

When strolling the seafront one evening, the silence of the beach caused memories to spring into view.

Whisks of feelings tantalised till they became important to renew.

The Punch and Judy shows, the first donkey pat and ride.

The memory of candy floss and toffee apples almost produces taste again inside.

As I stretch my imagination to hear once again children’s laughter and cries.

Games of bat and ball were arranged and with bucket and spade there soon appeared rows of sand pies.

Sandwiches homemade with cakes to follow tasted so much better with a light touch of sand.

The calls of, ‘please I am thirsty can I have a drink?‘

Out of the bag would appear bottles of orange juice, sarsaparilla for us children, and flasks of hot tea for appreciative adults to consume.

Books appeared and sunglasses as well, for a cosy read or a mystery to solve.

The sun was a pleasure or a curse, on the skin so recently exposed, as umbrellas were erected in colourful profusion trying hard to protect.

Sometimes they were flung into comical confusion, when a strong wind blew we did not expect.

Some I remembered rolled along the sand escaping rescuing hands. To ride upside-down out to sea, to a future totally unplanned.

At the end of the day tired children, very reluctantly left the sand. Trailing buckets, spades and wet costumes holding a parent’s hand.

As the local brass band played it’s final tune, packed up and left the bandstand.

Oh they were days to remember simple it is true, many friendships and romances started on the shifting sand.

I drew my coat around me a bit firmer and turned my back on the sea, taking all the revived memories back home with me.

© 2023 Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

PEERING IN THE DARK

 

Time for bed, I have been advised. Obediently, I do as I am told. 

Once in the dark, I light up my room and book with my phone’s torch. 

As I continue ferociously reading through the most exciting part of the adventurous tale, peering in the gloom. 

Ears alert for sounds of someone coming to see if I was as sound asleep as I should be. 

Off with the phone, light and breathing controlled or as a punishment, my book could be whisked out of sight. 

Leaving me staring in the dark, impatient to imagine what twist the story would finally reveal. 

Before the writer completed the final words with a flourish: 

THE END! 

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

BUS STOP CONVERSATION

 

A lady was waiting at the bus stop as we approached. Which meant the bus was on its way and had not been missed.

Laughing Anna and I discussed the weather, we included the bus stop lady in our discussion.

Our conversation took on another story when I asked, "Have you always lived here?"

She had lived in London most of her life and had worked in Selfridges for 40 years, starting as a very junior trainee sales girl.

She amused us with a glimpse of the morning inspection. 

"You had to show your hands and nails, have your makeup and hair checked. Before being turned round to have stocking seams inspected to make sure they were in a straight line and no ladders. They were very strict, mind you, it has given me a lifetime’s pride in my appearance."

"Telling you all this has reminded me of a very silly thing. I worked in the store for 40 years and never found the staff canteen in the basement. We were only allowed a ten-minute break and by the time you got down there, it was time to go back. I could have asked the senior staff if I was brave enough, but I wasn’t. There were a lot of doors in the basement, I was scared to open them and waste time looking."

I laughed and said "I would have to have found it, after working there all that time, curiosity would have killed me."

She was such a kind lady and permitted me to write up this bus stop conversation. 

I do hope we meet again, to fill in the gaps in her intriguing story.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

OH, SUMMER!

 

OH, SUMMER!

Oh, summer have you lost your way.

It is northern breezes we need to wrench winter away.

Instead, the battle between you two is dragging on.

When you reach out to lift the gloom 

Winter fights back with fierce storms to chase

Every ray of sunshine you send to warm our place.

The seeds in the soil down below 

No longer know which way to go.

Soil is eroding from the fields

For fish to flee or suffer dangerous clogged-up gills.

Heating we are longing to put off to save the bills.

So stoke up your boilers and let heat fly free

Not too much mind, we do not need over heating.

Push the bombastic winter on it’s way

To another country where their welcome mat is out

For you to dance, shout, storm about dropping rain

So they can thrive and carry on living again.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

A WEIGHT I CANNOT MOVE

 

Did I awake unable to move and puzzled?

An unbearable weight,

Stopped me from leaving my bed.

No matter how I tried, 

I just wanted to stay safe.

I was fine on going to bed,

Last night, or was I?

The doubt niggled, 

When did I last feel fine, 

Comfortable in my own skin, 

My mouth’s so dry.

The effort of thinking, 

Probing was almost too much.

Sleep, sleep, sleep,

What is needed is sleep.

Yet the oblivion was denied, 

The weight pressed harder.

My heart picked up it’s pace, 

Race, race, race, 

Panic death awaits.

Speech is denied, 

Who is there to trust? 

Who can see beneath the mask of normality,

Secured in place by me?

The key to control is mine, 

To find the good in me!

To forgive and deal with the things,

That need to be spoken, 

Freely in the open, 

With no need for blame or perfection. 

Close the door firmly on rejection, 

Allow praise, forgiveness 

And understanding to slowly move in.

There are new life pages 

Ready for my changes, 

The weight is lifting. 

I am back in control, 

Tomorrow is another challenge for me, 

I can wriggle free I have the key.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

VAST JOURNEY’S HERE AND THERE

 

VAST JOURNEY’S HERE AND THERE

Sailing across the oceans solo, bobbing about in a boat, feeling so very remote.

Yet above my head are trillions of miles of space unexplored as yet.

The planets we have named, those close by can be seen with the telescope's eye.

Those way beyond, twinkle and sparkle, like a diamond-encrusted curtain floating high.

The time it takes on crossing this ocean, seems so very long to me.

Yet journeys above my head, will take years and sometimes longer to reach into eternity.

I content myself with here and now, leaving journeys that will take much longer, for others to follow.

I will be gone, just dust for the wind to blow on to the wide beyond.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

LAP DOG

 

While having a cup of coffee in a small fishing village in Spain, a young girl of about seven or eight, came over and chatted away in rapid Spanish. 

She bent down, picked up a young dog of about three months old and placed her in my lap.

‘Mimi, Mimi,’ she repeated.

I accepted her puppy and gently stroked her talking in bits of Spanish I had accumulated. 

The dog settled comfortably and the girl chatted on to me with lots of arm movements. 

I said I did not speak Spanish. 

Her mother called her, to tell her what I had said.

She just moved nearer and carried on chatting. 

The dog lay unconcerned she did not need any translation. 

She just enjoyed the universal language of love and touch and willingly gave her trust. 

It was a special moment for me to treasure.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

SAYING GOODBYE WITH HOPE

 

Let your tears join the many in the lake.

Let your words fly with the wind,

High up into the hills till they reach the sky.

Now the time has come 

For letting go of the person you call mum.

Yet the hope of reuniting is there,

As, one day, this journey we must all must take.

And the ones you love will be there, 

Waiting with a heavenly welcome for you.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

WORDS SPOKEN IN ANGER

 

WORDS SPOKEN IN ANGER

Words spoken in anger often carry immediate regret.

No amount of apologies clears their memory from their head.

Time is the only healer and we sometimes run out of that.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

FRUSTRATING STUPIDITY

 

FRUSTRATING STUPIDITY

The screen went blank on my I-Pad, locked solid.

Defied all attempts to revive it.

'Oh, what did I do? Come on tell me. What did I do?'

Silence!

'Come on you are part of the problem. You must know.'

Silence!

'Or are you having a moment to yourself. All right, I'll wait, don't be too long.'

I filled in time with other tasks. A ping rang out.

'You're back! Oh, thank goodness, I thought you had a terminal affliction. We are so comfortable together most of the time. I did not want to buy a replacement. To struggle through and learn, new more complicated tricks, for a smooth companionable partnership which we already share. Nice to have you back.'

© 2023 Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen

Photo: Pixabay License

THE BABY GIRAFFE

 

THE BABY GIRAFFE

I landed with a thump and woke into a strange world. My mum was pulling something off me and giving me a good wash with her tongue.

Making small quiet air grunting noises which I found very comforting. Other giraffes came to greet me with a touch and a puff of warm air.

They were so tall and I felt so small, yet I somehow knew we were a family. I had to have a few tries at attempting to stand up, Mum nudged from the rear.

Finally, my legs lined up splayed and locked into place, suddenly I was taller but still not tall enough.

This was a struggle I had to win to reach up and suckle my mum’s vital milk. It was something I was born knowing, don’t ask me how.

Staggering about I finally made it, and found the teat I had to nuzzle. Oh the joy, hard to explain, as I guzzled as fast as I could, to fill my stomach with this glorious food.

Day after day I gained in strength, and my legs strengthened, as I followed the herd with my mum.

I learnt I had to reach up as high as I could to find the tenderest and the tastiest food. As other animals shorter than us, stripped all the leaves off the lowest branches of trees and bushes we passed.

Life was good for Mum and me, with Dad and my family always nearby.

Then one dawn with no warning men and lorries started chasing us, Mum fell with no warning and struggled to move. I stopped and stood beside her I did not know what to do.

The lorries stopped and men came towards us talking gently, Mum was all floppy.

They took her first gently, shepherding her into the back of a lorry up a ramp. I meekly followed as close as I could. It was very scary and I shivered a lot.

After a while, we were safely underway, bumping along on the rough ground. I did not have a clue where we were going too, till I heard someone say.

These are the lucky ones who are going to an animal sanctuary and breeding programme in the U.K.

Not that I knew what that meant, though I do now. It is home and safety, but somehow Dad got left behind. Mum was upset and so was I for quite a long time.

I grew and grew and met some young friends, Mum met a handsome kind stranger and that is where this story ends.

We are here, to ensure giraffes will always be seen roaming freely restored, to the free African Weald.

2023 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen