Harvest moon

I enjoy full moon waning days for you can see the moon in the morning as it sits with daylight.

 

Mamma’s place

Ives on Vickers

In 1979,  after two tumultuous years at “first” church battling song selection and aghastment over wearing Goodwill coats instead of vestal robes in the pulpit, and after the pulpit committee insisted he be moved, Quincy being the place, my father called it quits. With Meme still teaching at Summers, a house would have to be found, something they hadn’t done since 1948. After looking up and down St Johns, a house that once belonged to Tommy Ives mother beside a then dirt St Johns and Vickers was decided on for 16,000. It was a mess, full of dust from the dirt. Money was slim for upgrades. Fortunately, there was now time to improve upon the old 100 year place in Crawfordville they purchased in the early 50’s upon moving to Sopchoppy. My dad spent most of his time there, while Meme stayed in the old cold house and made lasting friendships with Lou Ellis and Gladys next door. Every night she would walk over with sweets and the lottery tickets she has purchased for the ladies and catch up on the news and see if they were millionaires. Slowly the old dusty home was fixed up some, the roads paved and life was good for the time. 

Sandhill song

 Soon to sound

I am watching the sky

In case perchance 

Some Sandhills come early

It’s a long ride down

 

Some lighten up

 Self portrait in gorget and plumed cap. After Rembrandt. 1631.

After Man Ray too

The Grays

 The Grays...

by john clare

From distant galaxies they made their way

A silent but steady invasion from deep space

From the outermost realms came the grays

Creatures mingling with the human race.

In the beginning how humble they were

Wisdom imparting to the innocent ones

Intentions promised noble and beyond pure

Captivating, we lost the meaning of run.

Slowly the transformation began

The grays taking on the appearance of men

A few warned that all was not so grand

That life as we knew was nearing an end.

But the gold from the grays we sought

Hooked upon what tasted of milk and honey

As slowly their alien plans were wrought

upon a race once so seemingly free.

To distant hills and caves a remnant fled

Fled the very day the grays did land

Upon the dew and word they were fed

Not a sign of leperous gray upon any hand.

As for those left mingling with the grays

Constant was their gaze into the mirror

Applying constantly the Grecian they prayed

Vainly trying to mask the gray once so pure.

My lady

 

Aphid pro quo

The day I wiped out the

aphid population

My fingers stained an orangish shade of guilty 

The Ladybug jury deliberated

Into the evening

An iron clad case the aphid

Attorney had built

But come the verdict when

The Morning Glories opened

The jury was swayed

It was the Glories the aphid

were eating.

The Ladybug foreman stood,

"Not guilty. You are free to

go and crush aphids."

Long to not spin

So long straight Saturday

For when the Meclizine 

Kicks in

And I am not still spinning

Hopefully

I shall be zoning

Or sleeping...

I hate docs that take your

Money while telling you

take a pill and see me 

In three when you aren't spinning.

As I spin, I see you, I see you, I do not need to keep seeing you, will you just walk by left to right, in your  right left like the rapid blinking, it may seem you stand still for me.

Bloody Mary

 Beware

Crazy Mary 

That rouge made

Face with 

Plastered on

Smile

Hides much guile

And if you gaze

Her way

She will say

It's sexually

You harass her

Look away

From

crazy Mary.

Emily

 We thirst at first—'tis Nature's Act...

It intimates the finer want—

Whose adequate supply

Is that Great Water in the West—

Termed Immortality—

~ Emily Dickinson 

Orange messenger

Orange messenger 

For most of the day

The orange pennant

Hovered and followed 

near

As if to either tell me

something

Or maybe nothing

That he just took a notion

To hang out with me

Thanks Orange pennant

I needed you

Up the holler

 Up the holler

There was the time when

the differences in worship 

were pretty easy to define 

A Sunday ride up the holler

We’d find the structures along

the narrow winding road

Culminating with the Methodists

high above the Primitives

by the trickling coal strewn creek

and in between the Presbyterian 

and the baptist with a Pentecostal 

for good measure 

there weren’t any mega structures

obscuring the Mountain View

no third Baptist’s from the latest split

few of the latter day or Jehovah such

or the Saturday sabbath two or three

Pretty much what was along the way

was all we needed in the day.