Born poor. Rich in family. Got a brother, mother fahter and sister that I do love. Climbed up some on my way. Rich enough now to find the time to write poems, instead of sweating and pulling green-chain for my bread. I thank the family who gave me that job. Mighty thankful for them, to this day. Thankful for the farm work. Thankful for the all the work. God did kiss me on the lips. Still think of those boys i worked with in those days. Doubt none of them would think to write a poem about it. I always was a bit strange. Peace be with all you who follow. I hope life treats you good enough, or poorly enough, to find the time to write or read a poem. Good for the soul, children
As I have ascended with the winds of autumn in spirit
And played her water children upon strings,
Like puppets gone mad.
...
In long evening shadows I went watching,
Tiptoeing through teddy bears
And capsized ships and blocks.
...
At the lake's edge where the marsh air hangs
With heavy scents of fall.
I saw him there, about his haunts,
Where blue kingfishers call.
...