From Deborah to April

 Ring around the Rosie

When we were young

we all held hands and

spun round and round

til to the end we’d come

and we’d all fall down

the last child to fall

would have to tell

who their love was

it mortified me

to have to tell openly

the one I secretly adored

n’er occurring I could

have said my mother

my grandmother 

anyone but the one

who sat across from me

whom I got caught by

Mrs Floyd trying to pass

a note to her

finally mustering courage

with my yes, no, maybe

please check note 

so relieved the note was 

not read cruelly before

the giggling elementary 

and so she never knew

it was me who adored her

secretly for summer came

and as a preachers son

we moved away to Kentucky

far from the game of

ring around the Rosie 

but right to another lovely

who did get my yes, no, maybe

returned with yes, yes, yes

kiss, kiss, kiss, heart, heart, heart

and how if I played that game again

I’d gladly be the last to fall

Just so I could proudly exclaim

she’s the one 

the one named for the forth

month in the year.

Ada Hall

Ada Hall station

Needmore near Deep Creek

US441

Miles from Needmore

The dusk was drawing toward a starry night,

On an endless highway of repetitive pines from Fargo.

Low on fuel, with thoughts of a dreaded hike,

When far ahead, a faint light was pulsing.

Turning off 441 at the humble faded blue store,

A young lady rose from her creaking chair.

"We don't see many travelers stopping anymore,

They are usually rushing on," she said.

With the tank filling, she told of her life,

Of the bee gums sweet in deep creeks,

Of departed beau's sparking her beneath

Oak Grove bouquet's trying to catch.

She could have left the lonely station,

Could have settled for Lake City's grandeur,

But love of home needed no relocation,

The richness in a place of familiarity.

Lovingly she returned the handle of the Chevron,

Inviting us to join her in the rocking.

Not wanting to leave this Needmore enchantment,

The blur of travelers wearily passing called.

Later that night checking into the hotel,

The needle mysteriously showed empty again.

"Why didn't we just fill up back at Miss Elsie's?"

"Elsie Hall?" Inquired the sleepy clerk.

"Yes, the young lady at the Needmore store."

"How could that be?" Miss Elsie passed in

two thousand long after the store closed."

March 21,1919

Sept 1, 2000

Kerr Syrup

 Kerr Syrup

Opened today the

last five jars of the

Old blend

From the long ago

Cooking

Mostly dregs

Daddy said

Still good 

Stirred in the

Ham

Biscuit and eggs

And so they stayed

In the shed

Until today

Poured anew in

The long neck

Bottle

To sit again

 Simply kept

For the sweet

Taste of

Remembering.

Glass Bottom

 Glass Bottom

It was long my secret boyhood dream

Whenever we would peer in the Wakulla clear stream

That when Captain Gavin called for the jumping fish Henry 

He would call up Jane mistakenly

Too fine

 Two fine characters...Harold "historian" Murphy of Lake City and Butch Harrison of Live Oak, Florida Cracker Storyteller at the A Land Remembered tour at the Lake City Library.Harold I knew personally. I miss his stories and friendship. 

Breast high

 Where reeded grass, breast-high and undisturbed,

Forms pleasant clumps, through which the soothing winds,

Soften her rigid fears,

And lull to calm repose.

Autumn by John Clare

Stanza twenty

Vincent you’re the man

 Vincent van Gogh (Dutch, Post-Impressionism,  1853 - July 29, 1890):  The Sower (Sower with Setting Sun), 1888. Created in Arles, France. Oil on canvas, 162.5 x 204.5 cm. Kröller-Müller, Otterlo, Netherlands.

“As for me, I shall go on working, and here and there something of my work will prove of lasting value - but who will there be to achieve for figure painting what Claude Monet has achieved for landscape? However, you must feel, as I do, that someone like that is on the way - Rodin? - he does not use colour - it won't be him. But the painter of the future will be a colourist the like of which has never yet been seen. But I'm sure I am right to think that it will come in a later generation, and it is up to us to do all we can to encourage it, without question or complaint.” (Vincent van Gogh, letter to Theo van Gogh, May 1888)

Gulf Hammock

 Gulf Hammock Thanksgiving

In the early 70's before my father began our tradition of making the Ole Homewood cane syrup, we would attend the Thanksgiving dinner in the Camp C of Gulf Hammock.

Ornate austere

Elaborate Austerian 

Times I desire an austerity void of any embellishments, hard hewn pews with white washed walls and shape note hymns sung A cappella, while  times I yearn for ornate icons hung below stained glass hues with light streaming through the smoking incense to the chanting of a choir of psalmist’s.

Widows lock

 The widows lock 

For years the smokehouse lock 

was home to the black widow

Long gone the old lady

Still she stings in my memory.

Faithful to

 Like the gospel or a work of art, I cannot make anyone fall for it. I can only remain faithful to the calling within me, passing it on, be it in poverty or obscurity, in the grand theme of Vincent and Theron, faithful to the drawing, the painting, the images of beauty.

Fire flies