Windrows

Windrows

Bold autumn colors cover

Brush hogged lawns

Along windrows of country homes

Keeping alive rural charm

Of small towns and their vision

Country lots divided by

Barbed wire, imported stone

Whitewashed rail and holly hedges

Alternate with variety of barriers 

Reinvigorates communities

From friend to neighbor the fence

Keeps cows out and with

Observing eye and mom’s shout

Keeps children in

Depending on stew or soup fitting for

the season or days attitude

of sunshine or rain,

Or when the north wind bears

Its arctic soul and snow hides

All fences giving scant resistance

To evening’s winter score we will invite

With a wish for warmer weather                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  world inside via satellite dish

01132012

Come Home September

September amuses in little ways

Shorter nights, cooler days

Summer dragged on longer than it should

But September is good

Gives ample space for games of true romance

Never thought I would dance

But here I am pressed, dressed ready to go

Oh you may never know

How many ways you bless and refresh me

We fit beautifully

In September’s extraordinary grace

bounce

Bounce

Small ball bounces off patio onto lawn

I had been warned by Daddy twice to hold

Or to put away or go play beyond

gathered guests who heard me told

not to bounce there that way with that ball

and let grandma rest or  they’d all be mad

why is it so hard to throw against a wall

as if a secret power was finally glad

to pass judgement on children and end the fun

in favor of running in street or violent video game

so I sadly set aside my ball, what’s done is done

and moped wishing i had a different last name

with  grown ups who knew kids need balls to throw

if there is any hope they have to grow

Holding at 35

Holding at 35

Country drive incomplete without black top
For some miles we drove and stayed alive
Some smell roses, others will never stop
Class of seventy-six marks thirty-five,
Remembers life was best if we didn’t get caught
In hormonal tsunamis slamming us
Our concerned folks kept saying we ought
Not talk of such things on the morning bus
each one feared we’d feel the temperature climb
heating our unprotected dignity
On a hill five miles away back in time
Wanting to build a grown up community
Yellow school bus shifting on black top still
A Bragg Morris memory from the hill

Before Church

God and I met when I dropped in to eat

every week for a few years then came changes

I know aren’t always bad sit stand sing pray repeat then we go

Pass organist past his prime, casually loud guitar band can’t keep time

They never sing the old hymns I love or play anything fresh

What’s a reformed traditional boomer supposed to do?

Own Girl Scout Cookie and Boy Scout popcorn accounts

Behind budget, memorials low, disaster relief is where dollars go

Roof fund, youth fund, arm the nursery workers with pistols fund

I drop a fiver for the Gideon mission to casino running Indian

fish fry tickets, bake sale boxes, car wash critics

Coming to church is like having postage due.

                                                                                                                     

THUMP

Hearts
pounding,
an audible
rhythm
pulsing, pulsing
blood pumping,
food, oxygen
to every cell
how lives
maintain mind
from today
to tomorrow
to next week
to year before last
souls soaring
for peace and
more thanks
a generic pat
on the shoulder
answer me
answer me
I am still inside
After Kevorkian died
Self-served or
An easy glide
To the otherside
I am happily
living unbound
dying to be freed
no more lost for me
forever found

Memorial Day/Joplin

Memorial Day 2011

Flags And Flowers A Cemetery Blooms

Gestures From Homes With Enshrined Rooms

Recalling Sons And Daughters Who Marched Precise

But Today We Remember Sacrifice

Once Brave Now Rest In Their Saluted Grave

On The Day A Cemetery Bloom

Joplin

We held our breath

Hiding from death

in basements under blankets

arms wrapped around  

whatever is nailed down

and the wind blew

as the cyclone came through

then the calm

and first look at our town

blown away

ART

Do We Fail To Encourage Young Monet
Or Send Picasso, With His Early Work, Away
Or Not Let Da Vinci Paint Something New
Because We Lack A Child’s Point Of View ?

Some Art Has Meaning, Cannot Be Described
Adults Seeking Truth Have Certainly Tried
Attaching Worth To An Ability To Pay
No Art Sold Unless It Goes Home Today

Crayons Or Clay, Pipe Cleaners, Confetti
Children’s Creative Minds Always Ready
Make A House, Cat And Mouse, Water Colored
Second Grade Masterpiece Completed

Parents Altered Reality Of Our Hood
When Outdoor Art Program Was Not So Good
They Spun The Color Wheel Considered Them All
Painted An Abstract Over Graffiti Wall