RIP O' Loquat Tree of many delicious harvests..
WIND! [Advisories out the wazoo]
it ain't just the Good-guy with all those spinning -mills things. ~12' (dense) canopy ... then that bastard Newton and his Impulse crap: 50+ mph gust.. hardly made a sound! s l o w l y enroute. Interesting fracture appearance, suggesting ... who knows? I ain't got no arboreal forensic skillz. A bit dry-rot looking.
*Samantha, accompanied by Pater, from across the lane came over to inspect.. She immediately clambered aboard--to climb the world's Safest Tree! Ever.. (for tykes to climb on/in.)
* ~7-ish; I deem this sparkly lass the peer of (the Shepherds Bush tyke who compared water to 'a mirror' and like that.) She is possessed of the cheerfulness of a Pollyanna/but with the steel-trap mind of a young (Madame Curie. maybe?) Her Questions are always al punte and her guesses ... sometimes remind of the young Feynman's style of improvisational jelloware. But I may be biased.
Her Pater was whirling her about/upside down: she, finally.. hanging over his back, in repose, with huge smile.. I placed her under Citizens Arrest for violating The Law [of Gravity.] Her smirk was priceless. A fitting denouement for a tree, its innards rotted much like the brain-fluff of many a Pol, its vanished gravitas oercrowed by the mere force of mundane gravity.. (and an even bigger Blow-hard.)
(In transcendental mode: I'd say that Samantha gave Mr. Tree a fine eulogy, in her ascension to the very Top (now the very-Side.) It's next dismemberment shall not be televised, as with the Revolution. Oh. Well.
Oh, too: I do hope that the birds, oft chirping up a storm, safely concealed by the dense foliage ... had already found a motel (being much smarter about storms.. than your average homo-sap frequent-flier, in mid-winter.)
it ain't just the Good-guy with all those spinning -mills things. ~12' (dense) canopy ... then that bastard Newton and his Impulse crap: 50+ mph gust.. hardly made a sound! s l o w l y enroute. Interesting fracture appearance, suggesting ... who knows? I ain't got no arboreal forensic skillz. A bit dry-rot looking.
*Samantha, accompanied by Pater, from across the lane came over to inspect.. She immediately clambered aboard--to climb the world's Safest Tree! Ever.. (for tykes to climb on/in.)
* ~7-ish; I deem this sparkly lass the peer of (the Shepherds Bush tyke who compared water to 'a mirror' and like that.) She is possessed of the cheerfulness of a Pollyanna/but with the steel-trap mind of a young (Madame Curie. maybe?) Her Questions are always al punte and her guesses ... sometimes remind of the young Feynman's style of improvisational jelloware. But I may be biased.
Her Pater was whirling her about/upside down: she, finally.. hanging over his back, in repose, with huge smile.. I placed her under Citizens Arrest for violating The Law [of Gravity.] Her smirk was priceless. A fitting denouement for a tree, its innards rotted much like the brain-fluff of many a Pol, its vanished gravitas oercrowed by the mere force of mundane gravity.. (and an even bigger Blow-hard.)
(In transcendental mode: I'd say that Samantha gave Mr. Tree a fine eulogy, in her ascension to the very Top (now the very-Side.) It's next dismemberment shall not be televised, as with the Revolution. Oh. Well.
Oh, too: I do hope that the birds, oft chirping up a storm, safely concealed by the dense foliage ... had already found a motel (being much smarter about storms.. than your average homo-sap frequent-flier, in mid-winter.)
