In a staring match with God, hope for His blink of Grace.
Wednesday, July 9, 2025
Ott Lee
Ott Lee Blues
There’s a man down in Scott County
Mississippi
Goes by the name of Ott Lee
Now the folks of Scott County
Don’t take too kindly to Ott Lee
For you see
Down in Scott County Mississippi
They have this office of Coroner
A mighty powerful position for sure
Now you say, what’s so powerful
About an elected Coroner?
Don’t he just come and pronounce
People dead?
Well, not exactly
For you see Ott Lee
He has the power to pronounce
The living dead
Walk right in with the certificate
Declaring them dead
No longer part of the family
No plea for mercy
No payment under the table
Pea Ridge Cemetery dead
So you see
Folks don’t like to see Ott Lee
Coming around family in
Scott County Mississippi
It’s little wonder lately
So many from Scott County
Mississippi are relocating
To places as far away as
Orange Beach Alabammy.
No cobbles no falls
No cobbles to jar today...smooth pave...a steady tailwind...some days the roads your friend...
July is Tour de France time and today the tour went over the rough cobblestones. My ride over Pounds Hammock was smooth and free from fall.
The Stoked life
The Stoked life
It's not all poking at embers
Stoking them into flame
But it's akin to that
Only with a internal
Poker.
Fleur flight
Fleur flight
At times it’s as if colors are kindred
as the clouds beckoned to the flowers
Four sure and one
Four sure and one
The winter of sixty-one
Plenty of kindling wood
Sixty-two
Just stubble and briars
Sixty-three
The pictures burned good
Sixty-four
The furniture for fire
Sixty-five
The hearth became our pyre.
On zinnia time
On Zinnia time
John Clare Stokes
Slowly at our own pace
(for we no longer race)
Come the zinnia one by one
with time to watch the glory
climb to another rung.
Can a leaf live
Can a leaf live again
John Clare Stokes
It fell slowly in front of my path
Early for its time in mid summer
Thoughts of our own time left
Who would be in the chosen number
This leaf I took up in hand
Placed it with those who still grew
Then laid it gently upon the sand
Below those it so briefly knew.
One returned
One returned
In my brief internship teaching 7th grade art at Lake Gibson Junior High, perhaps it was the reason I never continued. It was a daily breaking up fights, getting control, doing little actual teaching to the uninterested. And so I ended up in retail. Years later I received a letter and it read,
In all my years in school, you were my favorite teacher of all. It was from Greg who was picked on by the bored.
It made me wish I’d have given teaching another chance for the one who returned.
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