Archive for Stories
I wrote this some years ago for kids…
CATERPILLER PIE
Caterpillar pie! Caterpillar pie!
We’re all having caterpillar pie!
In the middle of the night–when the moon was high
We gathered round the old pig’s sty.
There was Terry Raccoon and Billy Baboon,
Uncle Tommy Turtle and Larry the Loon.
Caterpillar pie! Caterpillar pie!
We’re all having caterpillar pie!
Bess the dog, Murdock the cat,
Young Willie Worm in his best tall hat;
Shelby Snake brought a soggy old shoe,
That was dropped in my drink by Katie Kangaroo!
Caterpillar pie! Caterpillar pie!
We’re all having caterpillar pie!
Millifred Millipede did the can-can
With Silky Sally, the royal Afgan.
When Clarence the Calf leapt over the lake,
Craydad Willie did a doubletake.
Caterpillar pie! Caterpillar pie!
We’re all having caterpillar pie!
Wee Mole Mike is hanging loose
With Horn Head Bob–the big bull moose;
Stinkbug Billy is asking why
Kerry Caterpillar is baking a pie!
Caterpillar pie! Caterpillar pie!
We’re all having caterpillar pie!
Grits in my gravy, rocks in my socks,
Ol’ Hog Piggers is watchin’ his hocks.
Party’s hot–we’re swinging on…
Everybody’s grooving and waiting on…
Caterpillar pie! Caterpillar pie!
We’re all having caterpillar pie!
[This story I wrote in 1983, in Tasmania, for a contest the Australian Broadcasting Commission was having. Each week, some of the stories were read over the air.]
The night had been long. Once, when the contractions were still far apart, we wandered outside arm-in-arm to stand under the forest trees. Starlight had filtered through their branches, and the moon just edging above the eastern mountains had flooded our valley in silver. The nightlife had accepted our presence and resumed their chatter. Down on the lake, geese called, almost quietly, to each other. The rustlings in the bush were our friends, who occasionally visited the cabin if a window or door was left ajar. I savoured the crispness of the night air.
As we stood leaning against each other, I could not help but begin to relax, though the knot in my stomach would not completely dissolve. As an owl screeched in the distance we had slowly picked our way back to the cabin.
But now….she was so tiny, this little one. I untangled the cord from her body, and placed her face down on Shona’s belly. Elation was slowly filtering through me as I carried on with the aftermath of the birth. I heard it also in Shona’s voice as she crooned softly to the newborn, her fingers massaging gently the infant back.
As I worked, I was aware of many things quite clearly without giving my direct attention to them; Zamphir’s pan pipes from the stereo–Shona’s favorite background music; the three scented candles—now almost stubs—burning on the bedside table; the merry crackle of pine logs from the fireplace; dawn sun warming the wall to my left; the smell of jasmine and new birth; of the absence now, of any tension in the room; of the shared warmth and quiet amazement that had taken its place.
So very tiny. I lifted the sleeping little body and immersed it slowly int he basin. She smiled then, as I sponged her, and her eyes opened. For moments then, Sharon Rose studied the movements of her hands, obviously enjoying her new life. Her eyes drooped, and finishing her bath, I dried her and took her, wrapped in the towel to sit on the side of the bed. Again, little eyes opened. This time they looked directly into mine with an openness I’d not have thought possible. Then, with great deliberateness, she turned her head to study Shone.
From the bushes beyond the window, an early morning songfest erupted.
Winner ‘Story of the Week’ prize.
Winner 3rd Grand Final Prize.
Published with other winners by the ABC in the booklet “The Story Teller.”
When I wrote it, it felt like it was a true story… that it had actually happened to me in another lifetime, or different dimension. It still feels that way, altho some of the details I’m certain came from this life….
Imagine this:
- A planet where there is no vibration.
- Because of the lack of vibration, there is no ability to communicate.
- You can incarnate here, but with the understanding that what you will become aware of will not be accessible when the incarnation is over. You will be like granules on a vast desert.
- You and a dear friend accept the conditions, incarnate on this planet.
- You are now incarnate, your friend beside you… leaning against you. Yet there is no way to sense your friend… no communication whatsoever.
- You are in a crystalline form… and you know EVERYTHING.
What can be learned from this?
I am an alien tree, growing under an alien sun. The little flying creatures nest in my limbs. They are at home here, bringing me news of their travels. Into the cliff my tendrils explore, learning the ways of stone and chemistry. That which may be called my leaves are also my communicators, playing with the breezes, giving and receiving. Local creatures stop by with news to exchange. I am home.
No others like me live near… by nature we are solitary. Yet we are a family, aware of the generations that lived before us, altho we do not view time as linear as much as malleable. Within us is present the learned knowledge of all our generations, back to when we first incarnated on our wonderful planet.
We have no need for mobility, for in all other ways we are indeed mobile.
In entwining our lives with the life of this planet, we nurture her as she nurtures us. Together we evolve in our experiences of beingness.
She and we are also entwined with the universes…our energies co-mingle. We know the universes as they know us, for All That Is is all the same energy, with the same source. We simply explore it’s uses differently.