Pushing on the pedals
Riding down the road
Wheels are spinning faster
Cares are letting go
I shiver in the shadows
Under live oak trees
Pendulums of Spanish moss
Swaying in the breeze
Riding through a clearing
Bright sun warms my face
Days are getting shorter
Time is hard to place
Autumn is a toddler
Playing guessing games
Silent when a stranger
Wants to know his name
Haven for the snowbirds
Flocking to the scene
Nature hums an endless song
In the key of green.
A tiny spark ignites
the forest floor ablaze.
Red-hot flames surge high
Starlight eclipsed by haze.
Fire consumes the thicket
exposing blackened earth
A perfect bed prepared
expecting the new birth.
Old sequoia smolders
Its pulse begins to pound.
Dozens of roasted cones
Shed their seeds to the ground.
Nurtured by rain and sun
Unseen by human eyes,
Pushing up from the ashes
Tender seedlings rise.
The click of seatbelts
secured our bodies for transport.
As the Malibu’s engine accelerated…
we stared at the road ahead.
Not talking.
Not ready to accept
the expiration date stamped on our vacation package.
Both of us knew that Grand Junction
marked the intersection
of Adventure Avenue and Mundane Road.
In the rear view mirror,
the snow-capped San Juan Mountains
taunted us all the way to Montrose.
A vast panorama,
impossible to box up,
mail home,
or stuff in a suitcase,
jumped into ur Chevy
and hitched a ride.
My poem, Souvenir Picture, first appeared in Time of Singing, A Journal of Christian Poetry, Vol. 43, 2016
You and I
step into the boat.
It teeters
until we find our center.
Within the crystal current
minnows dart below.
Emerald leaves of aspen trees
wave a warm hello.
Soon canyon walls close in
narrowing the flow,
we have no oars, the rapids roar
nowhere else to go.
Yet, laughter bubbles from within
as the wet jets play.
The current carries the two of us
in our little boat…
forever.
First of all fellow Floridians, do not fear. The sun is shining today and no hurricane warnings are upon us. But it’s August, and we all know the next two months can be dicey at times. Dangerous weather damages Florida communities every year. As an Orlando resident, I’m fortunate to live in an area that hasn’t experienced the wrath of very many hurricanes. The worst storm I can remember happened in 2004 when Charley came through.
Still, I’m aware of the tough times communities encounter when their power is out for days. This poem, entitled A Cruel Joke of Nature is dedicated to you.
When Charley came to town
the city lost all power.
The stagnant, stifling air
Weighs heavy every hour.
Mornings with no coffee
No bacon, no warm toast.
Yet, inside the kitchen…
the smell of rotten roast.
The radio is silent.
My phone is out of juice.
The TV screen is blank
and Google sheds no truth.
I snuff the candles out
to rest upon my bed,
Swatting at mosquitos
Which whine around my head.
A Cruel Joke of Nature
this taunting serenade.
Escaping to the shower,
I think I’ve got it made.
My triumph is short-lived
Icy water hits my side
The bugs attack my legs
There’s nowhere left to hide.
Illuminated world
Advanced technology
Unequal to the storm
which brought me to my knees.
Trudging up the mountainside
following the trail
Climbing high with every step
hope my feet don’t fail
Although the way is difficult,
the cool breeze is my coach.
The towering trees above me
applaud my slow approach.
Now I’m getting closer
I hear the rushing roar
I smell the fragrance of the pines
My heart begins to soar.
The water is before me
It sprays against my face
A rainbow rises in the mist
to speak of heaven’s grace.
Abundant life is here
Fresh green moss abounds
My weary spirit is revived
Ready to go back down.
I’ve always been a goal driven person. I set expectations for myself and work hard even though I’m retired. Give me a block of time and I’ll fill it up. Yet, if you ask me what I’ve been doing often I can’t remember. I do know this; I haven’t cleaned house very much.
As you are probably already aware, I love to write. Even if I’m not writing, I’m thinking about writing. Building a following for this blog has been my passion. I believe it’s important to try post something each week and I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my stories. Many of my posts involve research, interviews, and digging through personal photos. Now it’s July and the calendar is telling me its time to breathe in. Breathing in means taking time to seek inspiration.
Today I’m sharing a poem I wrote awhile back entitled Achievement.
Slick rock beneath my feet,
hands fixed on sympathetic boulders,
I fight to gain traction and climb.
My heart rate elevates with the altitude.
Gasping for breath,
I reach the summit and revel in my achievement.
The vista reveals a sandstone canyon.
A painter’s palette
of deep reds, tawny yellows, and burnt oranges fill the horizon.
Each layer of rock illustrates a chapter in “Earth’s Biography.”
Far below, the author continues to write.
the mighty Colorado River
snakes back and forth in a quest for sea level.
It too, pushes against obstacles,
but creates a masterpiece.
And I am silent.
I’m sure you agree that nothing man creates compares to the beauty of God’s creativity. Until next time…
