The swoosh swoosh strode past
The old strider saluted the steeds
Silent in the recall of lost speed
Near the flowing well to forever dwell
Old Sopchoppy under your long spell
Though far I've roamed from your halls
In my heart the flowing fountain calls
Come John, drink anew from me
Stay, stay forever in old Sopchoppy.
Saturday we burned the pile
of hard raked leaves along
with the limbs long while
laying about the cluttered throng.
It is good to burn the dross
to see the ground again in May
steel it for the eventual frost
reveal the paths of children’s play
Now rise the planted sprouts
now falls the jasmine from above
we count our costs and gather about
nurture the ones we long have loved.
to Chicago
I could not image anyone
even wanting to take
that flight
but the heavens full of
those on the wrong flight.
sat in contemplation
of being a worm
now that’s a good thing
for that’s what sets
him apart from a worm
the ability to squirm
before the hook has
even been stuck in
Consciousness
Lifting directly in front of the rising sun called for a quick plus two exposure compensation.
Someday I imagine cameras having a Siri System where you can quickly say, Nikon, plus two!
D850 with 70-300P lens.
John Clare Stokes
Yesterday there we sat
Nearly an hour
With the mother
Who birthed me
We talked of the
Same familiar things
As before
Later that evening
The daughter called
Mom said
Some man in a green
Shirt came to sit
Upon her bed
He talked of familiar things
She wondered how he knew.
Come lil one from the nouvelle
Cool is the water from the well
Come, sit a spell with me dwell.
John Clare Stokes
The best garden cannot be gotten
from the depot or the low place
The best gardens are begotten
from every face we can trace
And say, this moon vine came from
a long dear friend, this lily came
from Luther, these gourds from
Markham now gone, living on,
in the best garden.
Heavenly Line by john Clare Stokes
It was one of those steaming hot days of April at Big Shoals on the Suwannee River. I was on the Mountain Bicycle making my way West along the trail from the Big Shoals down to Little Shoals where the vehicle was parked. As I came to the intersection of Roads 5 and 6, I heard a siren sound. I rode a few yard further and met a Forestry Service Truck with a bulldozer in tow. I stopped. The gentleman in the truck said they were about to do a controlled burn and were there any other cyclists behind you? I said I was the only bicyclist. Feeling compelled for some unexplained reason, I asked the kind gentleman if I could take his photograph. He said sure. I quickly composed one photo and hurried along my way. Behind I could see the smoke rising from the controlled burn.
I drove my vehicle to the Columbia County side of Big Shoals at Bell Springs and photographed the Suwannee River with the smoke bellowing in the background. I returned home, and did not give the lone photo another thought. Until....
It wasn't until the June 26 Reporter published a small photograph of Brett Fulton, 52 who lost his life in a Forest Fire on June 20th along with his fellow worker, Joshua Burch. It bore a resemblance to the photograph of the gentleman I had taken back in April. I attempted for several weeks to get someone to identify the person in the photograph. Finally, a friend who works as a welder for the Forestry Service, Joe, came by where I worked, and I showed him the photo. He said that it was Brett in his truck.
I share this photograph as a tribute to Brett and as possibly the last photograph taken of him in April. He died fighting the Blue Ribbon Fire in Hamilton County on June 20th, 2011.. May his family and fellow workers who mourn his loss, along with Joshua, find comfort in the many who expressed their love and support.
The Heavenly Line
Into this wilderness forest
We venture brave and bold
The sun is high and before
us grand vistas unfold
But all too soon the path
grows dark and the trail
narrows and ends
It is then when all seems
lost and hope is gone
That there are two whom
the Lord now sends
With fires blazing all about
With embers closing in
upon the narrow way
Through the smoke and
fire they come one by one
Sent to grade the Heavenly
Line
To make a straight path
of safety to His Son.
Suddenly they are gone to
return to the ranks.
We look up through smoke
To see the straight ribbon blue
and say to the Lord,
Thanks for sending
Brett and Joshua
to clear the way to you.
john clare stokes
He was a quiet little boy
He loved to go fishing
On Ocean Pond
Hunting at the meat stand
In the Osceola
We thought him dyslectic
Taking him to the renown
Dr Levinson in New York
He saw lady liberty
He saw the twin towers
We took him to Alaska
He saw Mt McKinley
Made snow angels
Stood beside a stuffed grizzly
We look back for any sign
The day on the Camp Street
Porch his will wouldn't break?
The Trooper window he kicked out?
Skipping the afternoon of Middle School?
He graduated in the usual way
The same way we did
Surrounded by those we
Would never see again
He had a strong desire for mission
We sent him to Papua to
Spend a month with the
Wano tribe
He returned with a handmade
Bow and arrows the tribesmen made for him
He still smarted from the nose
piercing without antithesis
Two naked Wano men holding him
A fireman since his pappa would take him to the station
The surfer boy proudly wore
His overcoat and boots
The day he married standing in the Santa Fe river
I recalled the time in this very spot
He was but a baby in the boat
The shear pin on the propeller
Was broke
And I had to pull him and his mother back to this landing
Never thinking this would be
His point of no return
And thus the little Lannie
With the great smile
Has taken upon his shoulders
The weight of isolation
The burden of silence
The promise of not honoring
The mother and father
The radicalization
Of a life.
First canoe trip
Okeefenokee Swamp
Written May 1, 2013
He will return?
