Tiny pony

 Had I a horse

Of course 

He would be

Three feet tall

Had I a monkey

Of a surety 

He would be

My jockey

And we would

Travel to

Kentucky

And enter the

Little Derby

Forever

 Only words?

Trifle not

With the poets heart

They take things there

And keep them

Believe them

Hope in them

And when you walk away

From I shall always love you

From this day on

They don’t

And will die upon the hope

Of your return to them.

Corn crib

 Falling Creek Corn Crib

This was simply trying to post something beyond the usual colorful and trying to elicit a wow or a beautiful. It didn't work. But, I like that corn crib out at the Falling Creek Park just the same.

I don’t get it

 Perceived as poor

Inwardly he soared

Taken as low

He dwelt in sky

Above the din of

Mendacity 

Grown so, so weary

Of the juvenile 

Immaturity

About him daily 

The cloud

The water

The very air

 was a

Comforting covering

From the 

Incessant

I don't get its.

Teebow

 I miss my friend....the morning walks....playing run and toss...your growing began...the swing abandoned...the boy now grown....each morning I come....to miss my friend....

The joy of melding

 The joy of melding

The melding of the old Nikon 80-200 manual focus with the D850 DSLR. It’s a joy to be able

to yet use the lens that got me through thousands of negatives and slides.

Hocus Focus

 The morning flush

In the morning mists thick with the 

first light rays revealing the orbs handiwork

we journeyed slowly in anticipation of

surprise from the palmetto and pine,

camera poised and pre-set, would we

be up for the moment, should it spring,

when before we could say hocus focus, out came

the doe, and wouldn’t you know, before

we could say, can you back up and let

me try that frame again, she was gone

as we slowly headed home.

Heartstrings

 Heart strings

Johnclarestokes 

Tangling the strings dangling about

thinking long severed the binding

only to find in the sight of shell shards

the salty sea breeze in twisted hair

pulling me into high tides receding 

all but drowning us clinging 

then in the tug of one same thought

lost forever never able to express

the reasons for the composition 

tripping over the green thin string

in the tall wild grass lying in

wait to tell of things that seemed

only tiny written in locked dairies 

with the especially deepest love

marked about with the dried out

purple phlox pressed just so

no thick painter ropes mind you

Delicate orb spider like silk thin

Impossible to unbind 

The entwine of time fastened 

completely.

Gideon Wind

 Gideon wind

Johnclarestokes 

Oreb and Zeeb run amok 

throughout the land

Midian strong in his reign

Yet down by the stream 

Three hundred lapping

as dogs

Come Gideon wind

blow throughout the land

break the vessels of light

Extinguish the darkness

Impale

Sword of the Lord

Snob

 The visitor

John Clare Stokes

Oh such the snub 

When the Fritillary

Pays a visit to the yard

Going about from 

Flower to flower

Then moving on

I let out a sigh

Tell the plants

Nice try

He was of the snob

Variety anyhow.

Mount Gum Swamp

 Beyond Category

Many the time

We climbed 

Mount Gum Swamp

Pausing to pay

Respects to those

Going on 

Before the 

Descent into the

Baker County Flats

The long pull

To the Taylor Grocery

Feeding zone

Liter Pepsi Soda

Off brand Fig Newton

Preparing for the ascent

Of Mount Moniac

Crossing into the

Georgian pine barrens

Above swamp line

Pedaling squares

Zigzagging silently

Behind the shimmering 

peloton snaking 

Away across the

Long straight 

Highway.

Swan song

 Swan song

Count the times 

Between the swans

We’ve come and gone

Leaving home

Coming home

And wonder if ever again

Some will never be

Leaving home or

Coming home

Walk between the swans again

And hum that familiar song

Come home