I remember the smell of my grandmother’s kitchen
Remember the scent of my grandfather’s beard
I remember the perfume, so stark and bewitching
Of garlic and savory steaks being seared
I remember the tea brewed from something called tilia…
Acorns. Scorned by humans
Pinecones, too
Wasteful, wasteful
With things that are tasteful
Prized by squirrelkind
Knife?
This is no mere knife, young man
But a keris!
Not just metal, in this blade, no
But a culture, a people, a history
“Hortense?” The Witch called for her apprentice. “Hortense!” Sigh. Where had she gone off to this time?
“Yes, mistress?” came a belated response, along with a ruddy face peering in…
I climb up the mountain, in ritual garb
Once white, now full dusty and rent
My legs have been torn by the plentiful barbs
That grow on this path of ascent
I yearn for the summit, I long for the peak
Don’t worry, I’ll be fine
In the forest, on my own
I will walk beneath the pine
Feeling like this place is all mine
Pumpkins on your porch…
I mustn’t eat it – this I know
Because my Master told me so
“This here is Bubbles. He’s my fish”
“He is a friend – not Kitty’s dish”
So I resolved to undertake a mission…
It’s time for another round of – drumroll, please – NOTEVEMBER! That’s right, Notevember has returned for a second round. And this time around…