Beastie Rhythms
Or
The Tune the Tortoise didn't like but couldn't Help Singing Along With
By TR Deeks
1 It Was Tuesday
2 The Tortoise
3 The Cat Let Out a Shrieking Miaow
4 All Was Quiet in the Garden
5 The Tortoise Liked It Too
6 The Stars, Moons and Planets
7 Even Frogs Were Hopping and Croaking
8 And Even Tiny Boot 'n Buckle
9 'So Sweet the Day in Perfect Tune'
10 The Tortoise was asleep
1. IT WAS TUESDAY, the dog was washing the dishes, the cat was vacuuming the lounge, the budgerigar and canaries were upstairs making the beds, the goldfish was doing the laundry and the tortoise was in the garden mowing the lawn. While shining high overhead, in the clear blue sky, the golden-haired lion of the sun roared down, with its dazzling golden mane flowing, and its bright golden eyes, awake every morning, aglow on the bedposts at dawn, chasing you with tooth and claw blazing hungry over gold edged grasslands of day, from soft warm crumpled bed sheets, where wild dreams lay lost, forgotten. Under the glare of the radiant sun, bathing earth in its continuous glow, charming the blue-and-white orb, a jewel glistening, hovering, in space, suspended, over an abyss, and forever rotating, weightless, world of wonders, where a troubled heart is beating, amidst life teeming earth and water, cast deep in a marvellous globe. And a living soul, in starry sway, float, as a loving eye, gaze, tranquil, balanced, and immortal, drifting, out the depths of space. Our silent blue planet wandering, in golden rays roaming, bearing us all forever, awake, a moment, aware, each in our time, we are dreaming, where our bones lay, dead to the world, our ghosts moan under the neighbouring moon in tow, struggling to get free, and our atoms, slowly dissipate, to the end of the world. Until then, always a morn and eventide somewhere always a day and a night. In day, brilliant skies hover, hung round, encircling land and sea, in sun and air, the breath of life. Far and wide, across the globe, oceans swell, and emerald waves with sunlit crests glitter, travelling through the broad water, breaking endlessly beating as foam and spray against rocks of continents, along coastlines of landscapes with arid deserts stretching away, and elsewhere, rich green plains sweep, with sinuous rivers of crystalline blue running long mazy rills to glittering seas, over which clouds sail, where birds soar, from snow-covered peaks of misty mountain ranges rising far away inland, with placid lakes and flowing waterfalls among the clouds. A storm is rising, deep thunders roll, pouring rain, above foothills and steep forest green, high wet woods and rocks, plants and rainbows gleaming all the colours of the sun after a downpour on flowers bejewelled in the rich damp loam of garden, field and glade, stirred by sunny spells, and showers of rain, that help raise the grass and the fresh-blooming flowers, sweetly scented, rejoicing with birdsong at sunrise, soft bright petals unfurl, trembling, among the wet grass, drinking cool fresh dew-drops, ethereal pearls of first-light, kissed from dawns sweet golden fingers. And floating in the sunny paper painted screen of sky that day, above the garden where the tortoise was mowing the lawn, one small soft white cloud, barely moving in the glorious heavens, like a piece of marshmallow, or chewing gum stuck up there, masticated, discoloured, discarded, the taste gone, what was it, strawberry flavoured. Though a light breeze blew, it may peel off and drop, before it blows away.
2. THE TORTOISE had been mowing the lawn all the long slow morning and, with the last bit still to do, was on a well earned break, reclining in a lawn chair, cosy in its shell, resting beside the lawnmower not far from the French-windows, that were wide open to air at the back of the house. A while ago, the noisy sound of a vacuum cleaner could be heard coming out the house, the cat vacuuming the lounge but it was quiet now; the cat was dusting the ornaments, maybe, or grooming. And high in the trees, the chirpy birds' chit-chat, happily chirruping and twittering; singing some favourite birdie pop tune they all enjoyed repeating piping loudly the catchy chorus, over and over but the tortoise didn't enjoy at all really. Sort of tune gets stuck in your head, thought the tortoise displeased. 'Now I'll have this tune stuck in my head all day,' the tortoise thought, 'it's not to my taste at all, far too chirpy, why they can't change it, it's my least favourite.' What's worse, it was so catchy, the tortoise couldn't help but sing along. What did help though, sort of, in a way, was what happened next, from inside the house, the sound of a hacking cough from the cat, fur balls? Followed by the crash of something fallen and smashed, a vase perhaps, or a fragile ornament fell off the mantelpiece.
3. THE CAT LET OUT A SHRIEKING MIAOW, as it bolted from the house out the open French-windows and dashed off down the garden across the freshly mown lawn. The birds took flight, at the sight of the cat out doors, so alarmed, in a dash, taking with them the chirpy tune the tortoise didn't like but couldn't help sing along with and was stuck in the tortoise's head anyway.
4. ALL WAS QUIET IN THE GARDEN, then not even a bird. Only the sound of a light breeze rustling tender leafy budding branches swaying, and water babbling softly somewhere, as the tortoise became aware of a lively new rhythm being played, becoming audible, from down in the grass and all around, the animated noises of insects buzzing, whizzing, scratching and beating out the low vibrant beastie rhythms to some catchy creepy-crawly song, they all enjoyed participating in so much, everyday.
5. THE TORTOISE LIKED IT TOO, a lively new tune, whizzing and buzzing, it was more to the tortoise's taste, and joined in, lilting, couldn't help it was so beguiling, and entrancing, singing along, some of the words it knew, head nodding in time, and foot tapping rhythm, it was such a popular air, the wind was whistling through the trees in time, rustling and waving their branches in time, waving each leaf and swaying in time. And all the other plants joined in, gesturing and nodding, foxglove and daffodils, buttercups and daisies, dandelions and primroses, even the apples, plums and asparagus swinging, and the colourful fruit and flora singing, petals, shoots and tendrils dancing, wild flowers waving and swaying in the breeze under the sun in time. And slithery worms wiggle among the damp roots, and bugs and beetles blowing horns trumpeting in tune, and spiders busy spinning webs, playing them as harps, and dragonflies and hoverflies whiz about, and butterflies flutter among the sunbeams, making vivid patterns in the air, and pretty soon the whole garden, iridescent, was vibrant, lilting, harmonious, even the stones, soil and germinating seeds, even the atoms, vibrating, dancing, forever.
6. THE STARS, MOONS AND PLANETS, if the tortoise could've seen them, were turning in time, ever so fast, even the galaxies spinning spirals irregulars and elliptical in time, ever so far, even the sun, space happy, was bouncing around in space in time, even the soft white marshmallow cloud was bouncing away in the sky above the garden, and the curtains of the house were billowing and tying and untying, of their own volition, in decorative bows in the windows in time, and the doors and windows were opening and closing and the door latches were clunking and door knockers knocking, and inside the house the clock faces ticking and tiny cogs within interweaving. And steaming kettles in the kitchen were whistling, and pots and pans and cutlery banging, and outdoors every tile on the rooftop like wings were a-flutter and the chimney stacks pots were puffing. And the old bicycle with a basket, leaning against the humming mossy garden wall, it could tell you a thing or two, was ringing its bell in time, and church bells were chiming from a steeple in the distance. And all the other creatures for miles around, joining in natures delightful refrain, they heard, rabbits thumping in the field in time, tiny nose twitching field mice squeaking in bits of grass in time, squirrels cracking secret nuts in time, goats munching nettles and hard headed spiral horned rams butting heads in time, foxes in the wood and dogs in the field running, gambolling, barking and howling in time, cats purring, yowling and meowing, milky cows mooing, wood pigeons cooing, feathered fowl clucking and pecking, geese hissing, ducks on water quacking, a flock of sheep grazing in hilly pasture baaing, some horses in a field whinnying and neighing, distant wild bees buzzing through breezy branches rustling, and the sounds of animals far away, far and wide, all in time, in time, in time with the captivating chorus, all sparkling and full of glee, like the world was new, singing along with nature, so full of life, though sometimes a slow weeping enters, sad and forlorn, and fades.
7. EVEN FROGS WERE HOPPING AND CROAKING in time, on lily pads on the pond at the bottom of the garden, under elm and willow trees swaying, and there were bell ringing toads wearing capes dancing minuet in circles jingling, among periwinkles along the edge of the pool, in which little fishes were splashing making the water ripple in rings widening, and more fishes were splashing in the silvery brook that flowed nearby, and even all the bigger fish splashing in the mazy river wending where the gentle brook flows, and all the even bigger fish, and other things of the deep, splashing in the tides of the wide and wavy sea, that flow miles away, rolling beyond the sandy banks of the river estuary, where seagulls cry, on the winds, and reeds are rustling, whispering, to the waxing waning moon swayed briny, ebb and flow, with seaweed swaying, whispering back, and all the starfish jellyfish shellfish and seahorses below the surface, and crabs sideways crawling, and shrimp, prawn and lobster and other insects of the sea, and electric eels, strike a chord, and mermaids with curling green tresses in underwater caverns chant eerie spells, of sea foam, and the great plankton eating whales singing far away, far and wide of their long, long times diving in the moonless mysterious deep, coming to surface at sea, spouting water in time, with barnacles that sing a strange bubbly chorus of shells. And smiling dolphins, hungry herding fish, whistling and clicking and diving in time.
8. AND EVEN TINY BOOT 'N BUCKLE wearing ticks and fleas on the hairs of musical cats that arrive playing fiddles and mandolins, in a parade that goes by, sauntering, across the garden, from out the shrub and thicket on the border of the lawn, amusing the tortoise, the feline fiddlers, gaily decorated, playing waltzes and reels, wearing gems, jewels and breeches, waistcoats and frockcoats. And there are flute-pipe and drum playing rats, marching in pairs or trios, wearing three-cornered hats and bandoliers, with rapiers, daggers, pistol and musket, one with an eye patch and a wooden leg limping, some of them wildly leaping and somersaulting in the air. Others, playing horns and pipes high-pitched, fly on hooting and shrieking owls, and squeaking bats, flipping and flitting. Even the birds joined in, swooping down out the sky, and lifting their hearts, piping sweet melodious. They'd changed their tune, thought the tortoise; they were a welcome accompaniment.
9. 'SO SWEET THE DAY IN PERFECT TUNE,' the tortoise thought, reclining comfy in the lawn chair beside the lawnmower and its green blades resting, nodding along to natures burgeoning rhythms and times melodic air. What remained of the lawn to be mown would be done, eventually, tomorrow, maybe. And as the golden-haired lion of the sun roared down, arcing bright and god-like in the heavens, as solar sovereign, forever circling the many folding and unfolding hours on earth turning, shedding its radiance and warmth on the merriment that was there, where all the joyful creatures played, until the end of day, when the great light fading finally, at sunset, in deep hues, with cooling shadows that extend across the once vibrant but uneven sward. The golden-haired lion of the sun, weary at last, lay down its sleepy head, beyond the darkening silhouette of westward rolling hills, its great golden eyes closing, shutting out their fine light, the beams of its dazzling mane cast elsewhere. And all the creatures, that were singing and dancing, spellbound on earth, in the shimmering and intoxicating rhapsody of exquisite visions of time and space that flow continuously about them, all the living and dying beings suffering trials of birth to scavenge fruitful earth spinning dizzy in the swelling giddy cosmic hurly burly bubble of things emerging as time manifesting space expanding in all directions forever and ever and faster and faster, it seems. While in the now shady garden, all had quietened, about the tortoise, and was still, and the creatures of that delightful daytime, crept away, subdued, tired and yawning, into shadows, to shelter awhile, in habitats hidden, dry, snug, safe and warm, for a happy end to the day, they feel, to wait, a spell, the night, to sleep again, and dream, until the next day, at dawn, when the great lion of the sun awakes them, with the grand old light up, to go about at whatever it is they need to do, what needs to be done, to make it through the day, if they can, then they do so, in the light, the rain the clouds, and under the stars.
10. THE TORTOISE WAS ASLEEP; head almost in shell, snoring quietly in the lawn chair in the garden, in the waning light of day, all the late long shadows grown at twilight in the gloaming sky, and a star appeared, glimmering, first one, then others emerged, shining, and miles away, over the dark sea, patches of fog drifted, and a gust of wind blows, inland, in windswept branches, where a solitary bird sings, in the haunted bough of a mossy old knotted oak tree moans, and mist hangs curling, murky and grey, coming down, in the dusk, slow-moving, over the purling brook, where fish stare silent, enamoured of some swirling eddy, what morsels it may bring. And a soft sky falls with the pale face of the moon rising, and numberless stars come out, constellations, glittering, from long, long ago, in illimitable space, with a promise of summer days, like these, brief days, on a world somewhere, in orbit, far, far away, under distant skies shining, warm in delight and serene, fanned by fresh winds, and our own sun, a star there, a dot, cold-gleaming, distant, part of an unfamiliar constellation, ages old, in that mysterious night, after night, we may never see, in the eternal deep, of things ever-lasting, this universe, all pervading, with each limitless moment unfolding, never-ending, and surrounding us, ever-changing, day and night, reflected on the rippling surface of the darkening stream, where a diamond necklace glistens, shimmering underwater, a glimmer of glamour, sparkle, through the swirling eddies, glinting in the gloom, and sprinkled in the starlight, out of reach.
And the dog barked in the evening, calling out, for dinnertime.
igo?