“A wise old owl lived in an oak;
The more he saw the less he spoke;
The less he spoke the more he heard...
Why can't we all be like that bird?”
― Edward Hersey Richards




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Kathleen is holding A blog Writing Contest -- Blarney!






The sea's churning, twirling gave way to a pipeline that glistened green as a shamrock this cold March day. The fierce winds blew up waves as high as the cliffs of our homeland and crashed down with a force of a thousand tons of steel beams. The canonical sound was deafening, but I still lingered along the shore, watching; entranced.



As the tide ebbed, off in the distance from where I stood, I spotted some foreign object trapped in the crevices of the rocks jutting out of the sandy shore. I made an arduous effort trekking over closer, fighting against the winds, trying to keep my body upright all the time. There in the tidepool was a large bottle. It was of brown glass and mud encrusted. It was bobbing; thrusting it's neck as if fighting to keep from drowning and being washed back into the foamy brine.



Reaching out and directing my gloved hand toward the vacuumed flask, and grabbed for it before it floated further from my touch. As I clutched its slender glass neck, a swell of wave came in and weted my glove and soaked through. I immediately felt the discomfort of the freezing late winter spray.



I leaned against a near boulder to steady myself. Since my glove was wet, I took advantage and swiped the slimy murk from the outer core of the bottle, and noticed a piece of rolled paper inside. I was compelled to pry the cork from the bottle. With all my might, the first few attempts were fruitless, but eventually the cork was freed. My one dried glove was in my mouth as I chewed it from my fingers. The vapors from my breath impregnated the air around me. I now tipped the embossed ale jug upside down and jiggled it with a force unknown to me...I was anxious to find what, if anything was written on the curled note.



As I shook and shook, my mind wandered back to when I was a young lass in Ireland and how I found the same on such a day as today. I married the man that had written a note and stuffed it inside a bottle; from years ago. My life was forever changed. And as the roll of thunderous waves hit the shore and the winds howled, I opened the note and found.......



Today would have been our 40th anniversary if he'd survived the war from many years past,

the note was from my long lost love!! Truly today was no longer cold and wintry. The winds subsided as I retreated to a love affair that was sweet, savory; like the morsel of nectar I once tasted in his kiss.



©2007
Hootin' Anni
Do not steal~
Title graphic by Hootin' Anni
Title: Nectar's Kiss

[blog entry for contest, pre-dated February 10th, 2007 so it wouldn't interfere with regularly scheduled blog postings.]


2 comments :

  1. Awww...that was so sweet ... full of blarney but sweet!

    Thanks bunches! Hugs!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Not bad, lassie. Not bad at all.
    Now if you'll let go of me pot of gold, I'll give ya half of me prize when I win it!

    ReplyDelete

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