About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
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Kiya's gift. I love it!](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)
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Off the Cuff / My Other Journal #669326 added September 26, 2009 at 9:36am Restrictions: None
Ragweed
Today I received a newsletter from a journal writer. She starts as: "Autumn truly is an amazing time of year. The changing leaves, the shorter days, and the chilly weather are all felt keenly." That made me chuckle. I bet she doesn't live in South Florida. We're hot here again 89 degrees, which feels like 96 if you're under the sun. I miss the lingering autumn drizzles of Northeast, the changing of the colors, putting away the summer wear from the closets to make place for the winter things. One thing I don't miss is the allergies, the ones that come from weeds, and specifically ragweed. Because ragweed allergy, combined with other allergies, gave me such terrible attacks of asthma, we moved to Florida, since mainland USA has it all over each state to some degree, but not California and Florida.
People are afraid of sharks, alligators, snakes, and hurricanes of Florida, but I am afraid of ragweed, even if some of its pollen is a component of honey. Go figure!
Because ragweed scares me so much, I might put it in a horror story. Ragweed or ambrosia --as the ancient Greeks called it-- has the most widespread and dangerous weed pollen to those who are allergic to it, even if this weed only grows one to four feet tall. Ambrosia, what a name! It means divine dish. Some dish!
Come to think of it, it would be like those gods to enjoy such a dish. Just look at what we humans have to put up with here on earth. Our pains and sorrows must be their feast, too. Crazy gods!
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