Against the lean years
We filled our barns with grain
Then came the latter rains
Bountiful was the land
We just didn't understand
How we were still starving.
Wednesday, April 2, 2025
Purple dazs
I sat among the once so young
The stranger I had become
I sighed of days beneath the shade
Where in the summers we laid
Cat Stevens and our world wild
Tea for Tillermen served with a smile
Lovers among the trees we stayed
Jimi told us it was all purple shade
The old landmarks they still remain
No one recognized them all around.
Someday they shall wonder who
High in the old oak scrawled
The love of these two.
Where she sat
Where she sat
It happens near ten after ten
When the sunlight streams in
Accentuating every fold
When a glimpse of gold
Subtle at first illusion
Then a fully formed intrusion
By ten eleven she is gone
The folds return alone
Tuesday, April 1, 2025
Come and die
So deeply down
I did wade
The depths they bade
Searching in the blue
The fool, the fool!
They said
Why to waters led
Among the dead?
Abide and die!
Tis I! tis I!
With the Savior dry.
Homewood
Come Home Soon Son
JohnClare Stokes
Many the time
The family came
To visit little Lute
They would sit
On the porch
In the cool shade
Watching the traffic
Passing on the
Aaron Road waving
To Lute and family
Visiting from
Homewood
And Lute would take
Them to the garden
Proud was Earnest
His son was growing
Melon and squash
As they did back home
It was a lot like home
And every one remarked
How they would love
To retire here someday
All the family here in
One place again
Sitting in the Florida sun
Mother Ethel would
Look lovingly at Lute
Her youngest son
Telling him in the summer
Perhaps I shall again
Come
You have such a lovely
Place
Lute would wave from the porch
And bid the family
farewell
To return to Homewood
Forever there to dwell.
April Fools
April fools
Bring on April
Bid March farewell
Let me dwell
Among the fools
for I see clearly
a kindred amid
we who dare
Dream above the moon.
Going Home
Gone home
Lately the task of going through years of accumulation has evoked so many memories
that it’s put off for another day. In a rolled up tube were blueprints. It was for the remodeling of the Crawfordville Pilgrims Rest. I told Melanie, it would be nice if we could use them to build it from the blueprints. There was the old bench grinder with the frayed cord we spent many a time sharpening tools on. It powered up smooth as ever. There was Bobby Sandlin’s obituary, still I cannot fathom him not behind the counter at Sunshine Drugs. Old Gulf Hammock photos. Landon’s hawk drawings. How did they make their way out here?
In days ahead eventually the past will be neatly ordered again. And when I need that certain bolt, I will know just where to look.
The journey
Journey
While traveling upon the Emmaus road
with its warm hearts within glow
I thought upon the blinding lights
of the Damascus road
that got me here
Cords Call
Chords calling
What was that hymn
I heard upon the wind
Coming softly and tenderly
Calling me upward
Lifting the weary bend
It had to be Vera and Wesley
Calling come
Come home
Tis the season of the Cantata
When choirs lift in song the story
of a Christ who rose to glory
Blending in ever so softly
the voices of those we loved
The great reunion with those above.
Lost buckaroo
Bug and Bucky
Too long have they stayed in
Their stable out back awaiting
The return of their rider
I do not dare tell them
By now their rider has outgrown
Them
And keep their hope alive
Feed them oats of imagination
And hope the bottom of
The barrel is not reached.
Calla
Calla
Long ago we took the canoe up River Rise
there beneath the cypress the calla grew
it seemed to say, can I go with you?
so it’s been with me ever since.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)