Times That Try

These days shall be remembered, not for what
Are the errors of our generation, but for
The lies of the few who held high office in
Times of greed, fear, and utter desperation.
That we were so deceived, and did not
Try all means to demand justice in the face of vaunted
Men’s unjust treatment of the powerless, our 
Souls cry out to our children for redemption.

Happily Ever After

I think of you when sunlight
Bursts through the clouds after a storm.
I think of you when stars in the night sky
Whirlpool around the North Star.
I look for your beauty in each waking instance,
Afraid I’ll miss one passing glance.
 
I must stay, but while you’re away,
I’ll search for the essence of you.
I walk in dark woods and mark
The gentle beating of your heart
In the trickling of a forgotten creek and the
Creak-creaking of Redwoods in the wind.
 
Time heals the wounds of love’s fire and
Steals the blooms in the gardens of desire.
Maybe I’ll stay awhile in my gardens – still,
Without a word, you drop me to my knees,
And comfort me with sweet memories of our
Once Upon a Time.
 
Love is not ended just because you’re not here.
My blessings overflow with love to share.
Your blessings of grace bring tidings of love;
Love that prepares me for living.
You gave me a life, one to be lived  
Happily ever after.

 

View from the wagon - July, 1858

"We take turns walking," is Pa's rule,
"Unless a body is ill." meaning dead.
I like to look out the back of the wagon
To where we’ve been, and never again.

Knowing where I’ve been feels better
Than not knowing where I’m going.
The sun bakes the distant grasses so
I can see a rainbow of hills in the glow.

“It looks hot,” Ma will say, 
“I believe we’ve come fifteen miles today.”
And, I can see every one of them here
Out back till the grasses disappear.

I walk in the tracks of the wagon wheels
That bend the grass down smooth.
And I turn to look every now and then 
To where we’ve been, and never again.

One to go

From blue sky morning in to darkness This dust will never settle. It chokes the souls of those of us Who watch in disbelief, and hope - One still stands. Cracked and broken against A blue sky mixing with smoke. Maybe it's not as bad as it looks. One is down with dust all around - One to go. Note: September 11, 2001. This short poem is about the 102 minutes between when the South Tower of the World Trade Center collapsed and when the North Tower collapsed.

Hospice (Sarah, 2014 – 2020)

The cold won't creep to touch her here
Safe and warm in her little room.
He keeps the wood fire burning near.
"For you," he whispers, "my dear."

What book will she choose for him to read?

He knows. The blue one on the shelf.

The story of a giant's one good deed
That to a poor child's fortune leads.

She'll jump when they fall at the giant's feet.
And cower under covers when he roars.
Then laugh when they trick him to his seat.
And she'll cry with the giant in defeat.

Her smile, in sleep, brings forth his tears
As for an hour her pain subsides.
Another kiss, to wrest the fear,
"For you," he whispers again, "my dear."

Once upon a time

And we lived happily ever after,
After the divorce.
When we finally had time for each other,
We couldn’t stand one another.

The lesson learned in leaving is
The same it’s always been.
Frost said there’s always something to be sorry for.
We should have said ‘I’m sorry’ more.

It was only a matter of time.
When we were young, it flew so slowly.
But time stopped when we were left alone
Familiar strangers, almost unknown.
 
We live happily ever after, now,
As we've found our other true loves.
But what might have been, first love of mine,
Once upon a time?

Walking home (Grandview Heights, Ohio, circa 1973)

Pick apples from branches that overhang the walk.
Stop and talk with neighbors I meet along the way.
These I suppose I’d miss, were I a boy today
Walking home.
 
From school, down alleys and streets, or
Through yards and yards without fences.
My choices taught what independence is.
But today’s child has fewer choices.
 
There’s danger in strangers and many more fences.
Mom to drop off now –  mom to pick up,
Because lurkers are lurking and mom won’t be shirking
Her duty to protect us from us.
 
Where is that boy, picking apples down streets,
Down alleys, through yards, with an independent mind,
Who comes through the door today after
Walking home?

Notes:

I used to walk to the High School on Saturday mornings in September and October for the after-Friday-night-football game practice.

On one of the streets, Glendale, there was a yard with a green apple tree in it. Many branches, loaded down with apples, would hang over the chain-link fence. I could reach up while walking along and grab 2 or 3 apples to eat on the way, or put in my gym bag for later. Those were delicious green apples, becoming yellow apples as they ripened further (and out of reach) later in the season.

I drove by that yard with my son in June 2006 and showed him where the apple tree used to be. There was another tree there. but not an apple tree.

We used to walk everywhere in Grandview. I walked to and from kindergarten, grade school, Jr. High, and High School. I walked to my baseball games, Dairy Queen, and Grandma's house.

There were no fences in the backyards on Mulford Road when I was young, so we played football from yard to yard. Now there are fences in most backyards. The alleys between each street were our thoroughfares on our Stingrays.

When I visit Grandview, German Village, and Columbus from California, I like to walk the streets like I used to. I tell friends here in California that I'm visiting the land of laundry chutes and basements.