The fox that waits until the chicken falls from the perch dies from hunger.
Since I can't wait for that chicken to fall, I'll start P.F. off a little early with a memory from my early days.
Childhood Religion© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved
I was Catholic back then, attending
mass every Sunday and holy day. Little
attracted by the divine, I was more
distracted by the piquant scent exhaled
by a swinging censer, the gilded dome
behind the altar, and the glassy eyes
of a mink biting the tail of a mink biting
the tail of a mink all around the mothball
permeated coat collar of an old lady
I hoped never to become.
Actually, when I was a child I thought the little furry creatures were tiny foxes! It took me a while to find a photo for those of you who are too young to know what I was referring to, but I found this one. You can actually see one of the little heads on the collar of the woman in the middle.
What a memory that brought back! My grandmother had one of them, although I have no idea if it was mink or not. She workrd for Gillette's, sorting razor blades, so I can't imagine her being able to afford mink, but who knows?ReplyDelete
It had three little heads hanging off of it, and they were as hard as a rock, and I was fascinated with their tiny, sharp teeth and whether or not their eyes were real.
I could never understand why she would want to wear dead animals around her. I could understand the soft fur, but why keep the heads?
Duh! She was a slave to fashion!ReplyDelete
I picture that showing up in one of your stories, Barb.ReplyDelete
D -- excellent poem . . . I'm fascinated by
the Catholic religion, not being one myself.