A strange alarm clock. I think the parrots who came in late to roost held a grudge, I was getting a message! Camped in the Stirling Ranges, a couple of years back with Jon, and a tree full of parrots.
Resolution
It happens that way,
that my words not so much tumble
as thrust,
plunging into your very being,
and so begins a pas de deux,
a dance of sharpness,
exchanging blow by resenting blow.
And finally, exhausted,
drowning,
we clutch the lifebouy of forgiveness.
©Paul Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Was that the last time you put up a tent under a tree?
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No, but it’s the only time I’ve been crapped on. 🙂 Normally I’d try to avoid it, but some sites you can’t. Took a while to clean.
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The secret? Fine white sugar dusted on (not where there are any ants!), let it dry, brush it off with a stiff brush. Might then want to check the waterproofing (I always used a beeswax boot emulsion). And I never camp under trees – green ants, branches flying, birds!! including a wedgie once, who thought I might have been breakfast – they’re Big birds!
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Yes, though we don’t have green ants in that spot – very fortuante there, nice hint for the treatment though, so many thanks Cage. Normally don’t camp under trees, but was a little stuck this time.
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Very good
>
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Thank you
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Very nice! The story of the human condintion… fighting all the way to exhaustion.
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Thank you so much, and yes, you certainy picked up on the intent.
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Loved your poem. We only give in when finally exhausted of fighting.
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Sadly yes.
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What happend??Are you OK?:D
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Oh yes, just reflecting on life as I know it – experience 🙂
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