Sleepy Morning

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© JBReid 2010

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Coco: a furry feline friend

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First Hug      Fourteen years ago, I adopted two kittens, litter mates, Coco and Mango.  Coco was the delicate brother, the runt of the litter.  He appeared aloof but allowed me to scoop him into my arms for a first hug.  I loved his snow white boots and white chest. He was a handsome cat. We instantly knew we were meant to be together.       The first years brought a flurry of gymnastics between Coco and Mango.  They tackled and stalked one another, played endlessly with anything that moved, and their curiosity was boundless, from ordinary household items to the majesty of a sunrise. This photo was published in The Record, May 2002 .              Mr. Coco had a habit of running out the door whenever he could.  H knew he wasn't meant to be a house cat but a fearless hunter roaming the grass and bushes.  It would sometimes take an hour to retrieve  him back to the safety ...
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Finding New in the Familiar

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It’s a road I have traveled dozens of times, maybe hundreds by car or bicycle for the past twenty years but it wasn’t until I took a meander-ing walk this summer when I came upon an area of town which I had never noticed. Something new found in the familiar was a peaceful apple orchard with trees living in silent community waiting for any passerby to visit.  A posted sign indicated the park was open to the public.  Hey, that’s me, Joan Q. Public.    A wrought iron gate led me to a path which looped around a bend to an old foot bridge that may have covered a shallow brook at one time.  This secluded gem was obviously well-maintained by the  hamlet of Pearl River while respecting the integrity of the original grounds.  I didn’t know at first it was an apple orchard until I walked closer to the trees. There were clusters of small apples  throughout the branches of each tree.  I reached for one to take it home as if I had found some tre...
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And the Woman Smiled

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"And the Woman Smiled" is the title of a debut poetry book which traces experiences from girlhood to adult, and beyond.  Published in my nom de plum, Gianna B. Reid, it is available on Amazon. Amazon Link  Here is a sample poem: Wind When I was a little girl, I believed trees created wind. The frantic motion of the branches was empirical proof. The howling confirmed it more. I thought if trees could just be still, the winds of march and November gusts would cease. Now I am older, wiser. Wind is because everyone is talking at once. And the Woman Smiled © Gianna B. Reid 2017 Amazon Link
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