I had hoped for sunlight illuminating the tree and the hay bales with the rain in the background, but it never materialized. Nevertheless, I was stoked chasing the sun up and down. I used probably four different cameras and several lenses. This was on the iPhone after ditching the Nikons and GoPro in frustration over not getting what I wanted.
It was over so quickly
We didn’t do enough together
In my old age of ponder
I still hear, slow down daddy.
A ride with Landon
by Aurelia D Wallace.
Because I can't remember
What I had for lunch, they
Think I'm getting senile.
I hear them whispering
About the Shady Elms.
Good God, I'm not ready
For Shady Elms! I can
Still read Greek, I know
The whole score of Lucia,
(Though they don't take me
To music anymore since
I've had to wear these paper
Pants). I can make Martha Washington's
Own recipe for Sally Lunn,
Without once peeking. I can
Recite the names and birthdays of all
Nine grandchildren, and I know
Franklin Roosevelt is dead.
All they ask me, though,
Is my street number backwards
And what I had for lunch, what
Day it is. Of course I know
Where I live, silly: inside these bones,
This bag my skin. No one needs
To know is it they don't know
All days are Sunday--
As long as I can breathe
This spendid, cautious air?
First day
Ginny at the Villages
John Clare Stokes
The ledger of a life was closed after ninety nine years, her last decade blind, the ledger of little use, consigned to the dusty smokehouse.
It daily gives me pause to ponder my ledger yet open, the daily entries marked, to be opened upon eternity dawn and read.
My only hope lies in the words written over in red, redeemed by the blood.
Tell me daddy of the latter years
Tell me of the way it used to be
Tell me of your father’s family
Tell me of your joyous tears
Tell me of your love then new
Tell me of the new old home place
Tell me why one left without a trace
Tell me how you two made do
Tell me things I never knew
Tell me things I never remembered
Tell me of the presents of December
Tell me of the letters sent to you
Tell me over and over again
Tell me so I can tell it to my children
Tell me so when by graves I’m tearing
Tell me so I’ll forever hear you telling.
Some folks take their oaks
For granted
They have always been
A part of
The family
Life has grown on
Never a thought for
The stately oaks
There once were oaks
In my life
Even had lightening rods
To appease an awesome God
But it was as a wife of Lot
Just grains of salt grating
Upon me now
As the Stokes oaks
Dwell among stranger folks.
Johnclarestokes
I sing a song of degrees
From adjunct poverty
To stately royalty
I sing a song of degrees
From total blindness
To vision piercing
I sing a song of degrees
The heart of burning desire
The heart frozen entire
I sing a song of degrees
The childlike wonderment
The elderly wanting it
I sing a song of degrees
I am in the first light of soft dawn
Giving direction to the way of day
In the first slant of sun ray over
the lawn
Cut low for you to romp upon
In the high noon straight shadows
Watching in the cool, dark shade
Awaiting the coming afternoon shower
Where in the puddles we will splash
Then dry to the fading light of evening
Knowing this is a great cycle of light
We have been so blessed to partake.
john clare
O ye who calls the wind to rhyme
The waters to flow in meter'd time
Suns to shine in light sublime
Moons to rise on hearts that pine
In dream the words you find
Rhymes to cause a world to mind
You awake to command the stars
Shoot o'er the lovers from far
Come nigh moon to the mourn
Sun give warmth to forlorn
O the heaven alas does not forbear
The dream was but a mare.
Bonny Suwannee O!
john clare stokes
Adapted from John Clare poem, Bonny Lassie O!
O the evening's for the fair, Bonny Suwannee O!
To meet the cooler air and join an Ibis there,
With the dark dishevelled Clare
Bonny Suwannee O!
The bloom's on the briar, Bonny Suwannee O!
Seed cones on the cypress; and wilt thou gang to see
The shoals that roil for thee,
Bonny Suwannee O!
Tis agen the running stream, Bonny Suwannee O!
In a sandy nook hard by, with a little patch of sky.
Beneath a button bush to keep us dry
Bonny Suwannee O!
There's the milkwort’s all the year, Bonny Suwannee O!
There's the Jessamine bright as gold, and the Otter never cold,
And the Iris flags unfurled,
Bonny Suwannee O!
O meet me at the shoal, Bonny Suwannee O!
With the Wood stork flying in,
And the wild Azaleas like thy skin
Blushing thy praise to win,
Bonny Suwannee O!
I will meet thee there at e'en, Bonny Suwannee O!
When the bee sips on the tupelo and Barred Owls on
Branches lean
And the moon beam looks between
Bonny Suwannee O!
The faster the boy biked
The land seemed a painting
It was a world he liked
Quite enchanting
