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“O wad some power the giftie gie us/To see oursels as ithers see us!” Robert Burns, from “To a Louse”

giftie noun/Scottish/gift; faculty” Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary

it is a season to trade gifts/to show appreciation/to bring a one that fair uplifts/and brightens an occasion

my lovely donna waits for me/in faraway toledo/which is excruciatingly/like penguins in a speedo

i bought her something just today/a tiny bonsai tree/placed in a vessel made of clay/made recently by me

the man will take my pot and then/with elbow grease, good people/contrive to drill and grind and spend/himself to make a weep-hole

so keep your fingers crossed, good friends/in hopes there is no cracking/and that this venture hap’ly ends/in joy and fun unlacking

and that we follow well the rules/and keep the wee tree healthy

and with the years contentment fuels/a trove that’s truly wealthy.

..

Afterword: There is a Donna in Toledo, Ohio, waiting for me, whom I am immensely proud to call my Sweetheart. I will be uprooting myself from Phoenix and going cross-country to live with her, we hope forever, some months from now; but much sooner I am flying to Toledo to be with her for a few days, and we will exchange gifts. The bonsai merchant will have, by this time tomorrow, used a masonry drill and a grinder to put a weep-hole in the bottom of the triangular vessel I made some weeks ago. It is unlikely that I will be able to present the bonsai to Donna before I make the move, but it is already hers.

Disks are not everywhere, but they are manywheres. Most coins are disk-shaped. Before solid-state storage came along, disks held all our computing data. Frisbees, 12-Step medallions, pupils, irises, the Sun and Moon from this distance…it’s Disk-O-Mania.

Long ago Robert Burns took his Scots dialect to this subjunctive couplet:

O wad the power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us…

2020 0728 diskie

The dialog I have my sketched characters say in this images comprises two couplets, and they comprise a small poem. It goes like this, and though it’s untitled, it’s all about disks:

sing o muse of a held up earth
of memory and what it’s worth
of need and want that drive our dreams
of nothing being what it seems.

Anyone care to estimate the total number of disks in this image? Don’t forget the red corpuscles coursing through the circulatory systems of the characters, nor the follicles from which the wild-haired dude’s hair springs. 🙂

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