I have a long way to love
under shading maples
over carpet of needle and pine
Graceful are the treasures…I find
Long for Love
Memories of Sutton
A hundred year oak…now with faded auburn leaves.
Centuries of stone fences with homes long since gone.
The dogs unencumbered, free to explore a land unknown.
But still a muddied swimming hole is where they decided to roam.
We dodge dropping acorns from dismayed animals up above.
Deep in a forest untraveled,
I am reminded of that strawberry blonde child, sunfish and September early morning, in the plump sun.
Share this:
Minding Mushrooms
The fight remains in the hand tossed rubble and rubbish.
Hope…in the ache that wakes.
Not paradise up close and focus tight.
But by innate tapestry under the sun’s light.
No treading a path beyond fine.
The superfluous for the mind.
Share this:
Signs of the Father
My Father used to say, peace be with you…
But it never was.
Holding a stark bare cross above the bedroom door…
I had been taught ‘this is love.’
Father would shake my hand until life caught hold
Eventually, in obsession, he became less bold.
My Father had sent me to deviant schools.
I had been taught of prejudice, good books, how to look for fools.
Share this:
Nothing More…Nothing Less
Nothing more whimsical than wild turkey’s in the evergreens
A dog’s stubby knees
Frisky felines pretending to be sweet
Heifer’s that refuse to take a seat
