Sorting through words and pages
From chapters of former lives;
Recalling plays from many stages;
Seeing what, if any, survives.
...
I heard them early in the morning…
Large acorns falling from on high;
Onto the roof where I was sleeping
In a craftsman-style house, on a quiet tidal cove,
...
Lady standing at her kitchen window,
Hands managing the soapy dishes,
Eyes regarding the kitchen garden outside,
Fingers remembering the dark moist earth,
...
"Floriography…"
"Language of flowers? " posed she.
"Since Shakespeare, " said he.
...
thAt
Last gust was the strOngest yet,
and the souNds drew my attEntion
to the Bare tree branches
...
She is happiest when she is with her horse, Vanna.
Not her pet, but her soul-companion,
Who will never let her down.
...
Thought of you recently, Ron… the old times,
The hipper ways of our younger days,
Back in the late 60s, early 70s…
...
The sound of breezes
Blowing through the young new leaves…
A fresh green season.
...
Starlit night skies, even without a moon;
The plaintive call of that lonesome loon;
Raindrop craters on a smooth sand dune;
Life well done, though it be done too soon.
...
Ah… if only we all could make the most of what we're given, and only need to the level that we can afford, and be satisfied with it all.
After a long gabfest of basic human observation, and since there were no other customers, she walks to the back room of her store and comes back to show me a framed photo of her Dad, with his granddaughter on his lap. So proud was she, of this photo of Dad with her daughter; as was he, to be holding her, this flaxen-haired girl of his girl. He wears a plain ball cap… no holograms, no neon stitching, no trademark logos… just, "Pollock, South Dakota, Farmer's Collective" printed on it.
...