Shrouded Shore: The Many Musings of Thom Singleton

  The World of Austin Island Blazing sunsets and sparkling sunrises bookend a child’s days of gleaming surprises… Clam shells and crawdad claws, crow’s caws and cat’s paws, Pine needles and rocks, bushes and docks, Blue sky and boats, log cabins and floats, Eagles soaring in the whispering winds, dragonflies flitting their gossamer wings, A fireplace, a warm embrace, a heartspace with Spirit graced. A treasure box of memories of family and friends, The Island welcomes a new generation of beloved children.

  Night Crossing Before moonrise, the night was pitch black, the forecast bleak with storms. The rowboat was small, but the cargo - two little brothers - was precious. Their parents and grandparents - fellow passengers - were vigilant to make the crossing safely. The two boys - six and two years young- saw the watery night through wide-open eyes. Their Captain Daddy pulled mightily on the old boat’s oars to bring Mommy, George, August, Grandma, and Grandpa safely to the tiny dock lost in the gloomy distance. The islanders, now mainlanders again, headed home. By this time, a great balloon of a super moon had come out to light their way, a sure sign that they had made the right decision to cross the water when they did, and not be marooned in the storm.

  A Grimace to a Grin Hauled 1500 pounds of rock the last few days to complete our backyard pond. About 15 pounds a piece. But, really, had to lift them four times each… Once, from the pile to the truck, Then, from the truck to the wheelbarrow, Again, from the wheelbarrow to the pond’s edge, Finally, from the edge to the inside wall of the pond. So, really, lifted 6000 pounds. Three tons. That explains the ache in my back, Which bummed me out, until I remembered a name for a moving company, That I came up with years ago as a joke, Aikenbach Movers. That changed my grimace to a grin. 

  White Wind Haiku It’s snowing in May. Cottonwood trees are shedding Their wispy-white flakes.

  Dandelions for Dinner The baby rabbit has his meal, dandelions gone to seed. He bites them off at the ground, and eats the long stem like he’s chewing a toothpick, or sucking a straw, until he comes to the round white head of seeds. This he munches too, but not before he looks white-bearded, much like a small child would eating a bowl of ice cream. I have a million or so dandelions in my lawn. I could have a thousand or two baby rabbits for dandelion dinner. While we don’t have a planted garden, we certainly do have one for the grazing deer, turkeys, rabbits, and other creatures that like diversity in a lawn. It's interesting to watch them forage. They know what plants to eat to fulfill their bodily needs.

  Winged Light of Spring Sun-filtered silver in the spring green leaves Riches of the goldfinches, little golden sparks Orange balls called robins bouncing across the lawn Buzz of pollinators, golden honeybees Rose-breasted grosbeaks, harbingers of gardens to come Masterpiece of waterbirds, shy wood duck Blue-black head of the grackle with his intense stare Strutter with a feathery train, wild turkey Dazzling robes of the orioles, small flying suns Spring’s visual treasures return

  The Invisibly Vital It’s everywhere and nowhere. We can feel it but not see it. We can even hear it in the trees. But otherwise, it is forgotten, taken for granted, out-of-sight-out-of-mind. Yet it’s something we experience, oh, say, every second or so, 86,400 times every day. In and out, in and out… Air, the air we breathe into our bodies. It’s vital. We need to clean it up.