Monarch

 Nothing is quite as vibrant as a newly hatched female Monarch.

Burning Helene

 Today i burned the large pile of brush from Helene. There is still much in back but it will wait until the next hurricane next week. 

Cure for the blues

 The Bluegrass Way 

Nothing would be finer than a slow ride about the Kentucky countryside on a crisp autumn day.

Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill

HAARP

 Wouldn’t it be great if Government no longer had the funds to direct hurricanes?

Take it easy

 You will arrive. Enjoy the ride. We will wait for you.

Look up

 Some days seem more difficult to look up.

Heavenly birthday

 Richard Oranders only girl would have been 96 today. Seven years gone on this earth, seems so long to miss. 

Wake

 Wake

John Clare Stokes

Tonight I sit up

With a dying moon

Soon to slip beneath

Tree sheets

Alone

I mourn

And then it occurs

I am the one

Soon to slip beneath

The forever sleeps

The moon

Mourns

For me

Homespun

 The longer grew our memory of home, the greater the boards, brick and tin took on a perfect mend. The December air in the slits, once as a siren, now but a gentle wind. The November smoke from the chimney, once billowing the black soot, now but a lazy waft upward, the April rain pelting awake upon the leaking tin, now a lullaby in our tender sleep. The front porch the only relief from the July heat, now a siesta in the creaking swing.

106

I often gauge the lives of those gone on by Helena Powers, still holding on strong at 106. Today mamma would only been 96. Gone at 89. But the roll is always being called up yonder and we wait our turn to depart.I am now 69 and I’ve came near departure in 2009 like Melanie the same year and again with year with a stroke. Once the runner swift is no longer immune from times hurdles. We creep to eternity.

 

To the unknown

 To the unknown

John Clare Stokes

There was speculation 

Of who it could have been

The burying

In the night

There was talk of

Exhuming the unknown

To determine 

Who it may have been

But in the end

A marker was placed

The unknown 

Just wanted to die

Without a trace.

Pool of life

 Pool of life

John Clare Stokes

Poetry

He tried

It died

Bad sonnets

Weren't in vogue

Photography 

He tried

Beautiful

Was the only

Reply

Just couldn't

Get beyond

Politics

He tried

So right in

A wrong world

No one voted

Not even he

Painting

He tried

The palette

Of colors

Didn't match anyone's 

Decor

Then the pastor

Said he must

Decrease 

That was simply

Easy

After all the

Trying