Today my younger brother Lewis Watson is 61. Born in Tallahassee when we lived in Monticello. Paula and i never quite knew how to include him being he was 8 years younger than me and 10 Paula. We always said mamma spoiled him. He sure was a handful for everyone.
I loved the doo
I loved the yellow bug
I loved the Spotmatic
The roof racks
The white canoe
I loved the denim shirt
It was the age of
Aquarius
And I was in love.
Piddled on the Raylene chicken pen. Rain put a delay. Making a new door you don’t have to stoop. Went to Tractor Supply to get hinges.
In the darkness that was reigning
Our prayers were heard
A light is seen dawning
At the command of His word
Today the check for the car loan arrived via Fedex, so about 3 Mel, Roscoe and i drove to Williston to get the MkX 2017. I drove our car back with Roscoe. Called Farm Bureau earlier to get insurance.First time driving at night since before stroke. Had to pull off at Oleno for a nature break.
We stayed up late to watch the election results. We were relieved to see Trump win in a landslide.We needed relief from four years of stolen rule by Biden Harris.
Do you recall in the First November
When recovering I talked you into hiking
Embarking upon the ferry to Cumberland
Still so weak from the long nights plight.
Sunday’s as these I sit beneath the pine trees
Recalling those first slow steps after the fall
Breathless lying on the blanket by the sea
Giving thanks for His taking us through it all.
When again in fall Cumberland Islands calling
Be patient with dreams beyond our span
And pray we never tire of the gentle drawing
Just to lay again where our dreams began.
Sunday sonnets do not often now come
Sunday sonnets for lovers who so fleet did run.
Johnclarestokes
Once we were a cross land
All up and down the highways and byways
the crosses by churches, in fields, at
intersections, upon hills, in valleys stood
then gradually something changed
the crosses were no longer maintained
they began to fade, to rot, to fall
to lay in abandon
until all throughout our land
We have become nothing but a
cross land.
At the confluence of Roaring Creek and the Suwannee....A trio of lady kayakers portaged around the Shoals...And as they passed on their journey....I thought of Will and the place where the sweet waters flow...
