Jim Yerman Poems

If you walk as the sun is rising over the mountains on paths surrounded by the trees…you're constantly surprised by nature's ever-changing beauty and her host of lively imageries.

With an acapella harmony emanating from every tree around…
you begin to notice the sunlight…how it dances to the ground.
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They didn't know each other as children…their seeds of love were later sewn…when the two of them were older…when the two them were grown.

At least that's what he thought at first…but he quickly had his doubts…for he falls in love with her child…every time she lets her child out.
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When searching for a philosophy on how to live…how to act and why…my search ends quite abruptly…when I look up at the sky.

The sky understands how life is always moving…how it constantly rearranges…how we must enjoy each moment…before that moment changes.
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There was a time when I had more hair and I was, I imagine, a little thinner…when our family gathered around one table to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner.

But as our family grew and our table didn't…as a family we were no longer able…to sit together in one spot…so we added…the grandchildren's table.
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I love Christmas traditions…from the food to the presents to the tree…how each family has our own traditions…locked into our memory.

I remember Christmases in Ohio…where I was born…where I did my earliest growing…I remember our aluminum Christmas tree with rotating colors…I remember cold…I remember snowing.
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The young couple was about to have a baby so they thought it would be nice to sit down with his grandpa and ask for some advice.

"What can I tell you about raising children? " He said. "About helping them to grow. I guess the first thing would be to be prepared for all the things you do not know."
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I love watching a magic show…I love to be surprised…I love how the magic happens…right before my eyes.

The secrets inherent in the magic…I don't care to know…I prefer to be amazed…to sit back and enjoy the show.
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Ugly is an ugly word…whether in prose or in a rhyme…and I apologize for not only using it thrice already…but in this poem…you'll see it three more times.

On a walk the other day a man and woman a little distance ahead of me…looked up and said simultaneously…"That…is one ugly tree".
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He was already an old man the first time, at us, he waved
and that memory is one his sister and I…in our hearts have forever saved.

We learned his name was Joseph…and as a general rule
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If you were told this was going to be your last day that tomorrow you'll be leaving everything behind…I wonder, after hearing that, what thoughts pop into your mind?

Is there one person…maybe more…someone you have known…to whom you might want to write a letter or talk to on the phone
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