My Sister In Law passed away last summer from a very long and sometimes successful battle with cancer. If I’m lucky I will live more years than she did, but I doubt I will ever live better. I wrote her this, which she was able to read.
You live large.
Larger than me.
But because of you
I live more than I would.
Is shared by all.
Around at our start
And there when we depart.
By your efforts.
Little bell ringing.
Listen for the singing.
Not anything can take
What we will celebrate.
You are here.
You will never leave.
But peace you will achieve.
On a previous (short)(for me) drive I wrote:
I was pulling into a rest area next to a town in the middle of nowhere.
My apologies to the locals.
They think it is the center.
I know better. And so does that electric guy.
Standing sentinels are now guarding the place
where I sometimes get “Good Country Grub”.
And it has always been good.
I’m looking at these pillars of electrons and
wondering if I am seeing the future or the past.
I was following behind a truck last night.
It was carrying a fellow truck, very similar looking.
Who must have been important because there were flashing lights
on the back. Two of them.
I could tell those lights were part of the mother truck,
but they weren’t coordinated.
Not coordinated, in the way that if you watch long enough,
for a brief period they flash at the same time.
But that’s silly. Who stays in back of a truck long enough
to see them catch up with each other.
What are they doing, checking each other out?
My god, this is the computer age, keep them apart.
Sitting on the Continental Divide
Reading a sign that says – Elevation 6870 feet.
It is a clear night, no moon.
The stars are so bright I can see the remains of the rain clouds.
The temperature is 55 now, was 95 before the welcoming rain.
I can see the other clouds, clearly.
What’s that – a shooting star?
What’s that – a grizzly?
About this divide,
something happens on one side of it
that doesn’t happen on the other.
I walk back and forth, back and forth.
I don’t feel the difference.
Maybe I’m too close to the problem.
I’ve said that views are better, seeing them with you.
But is that true?
I look up at the deep darkness, so shot through with lights.
If you were here, would I see it as darker, with more twinkles?
Or would I see it as less, because you are distracting me?
Title: Icicles too
Yesterday, you caught my attention
With your clear, sparkling personality.
Today, you look clouded and cold.
I bet if I wait long enough
You will just melt in my arms.
Oh please, just stop with the drama.
Can’t we just go to some sunny beach
A little chilly today, but beauty is everywhere.
Dark grey clouds come rolling in.
Wind chases the warm thoughts out.
Shelter needs to be quickly found.
Now’s not the time to be out and about.
And then it fell,
Fell so quietly.
Snow coming down
Covering all so softly.
Isolation imposed upon the scene.
Books, chores, fires to make.
Wool and flannel do their part.
Now’s the time for plans to break.
Cold is short lived.
Snow begins to melt.
The icy grip
Is no longer felt.
Except hanging there for all to see
When the weather is not so fickle.
On the edge of freeze and flow
Is the most ravishing icicle.
Dressed in blues and greys
While really quite clear.
An object just created
Which I hold most dear.
Not wanting to pass up an opportunity to embarrass myself, Helen looked at my profile, why? So I wrote:
What did I find at the top of the list,
This morning when I checked my view?
Somebody that always brightens my day.
Yes, Helen, dear Helen, just you.
But, of course, that didn’t win her heart. So, after a discussion we had over another pass she had received I wrote her another song. Again, no music.
Dang, this week has been nothing but a bore.
I'm going on-line and trying to score.
Urgently, there is a note in my box.
Some unknown cowboy calling me a fox.
Good tasting women. (Chorus)
Give me plenty of air.
It's my heart you're killin.
We'll make a good pair.
For sure this will put a fix to my frazzle.
A note from a cowboy, ready to dazzle.
I'm already practicing my perfect smile.
Ready for his truck to lay down the miles.
I can read how he wants me in my own bed.
But really he's talking only about my warm shed.
Where he can do his work, get out of the cold.
Here's one long distance romance that won't get old.
Here is something you don’t see every day. My camera rig (mostly myself) is challenged capturing these glorious birds. And since they (and their owners) were such great hosts, I left them a poem. Enjoy.
Title: A Starling for Kate
On the wind, soaring in the sky.
Free to hunt, free to fly.
Mastering skills hard to teach.
With each flight, extending the reach.
Flying, flying despite the weather.
Kept aloft by auburn feathers.
Even if the prey is missed.
No question returning to the fist.
A bond has been made
Too strong to fade.
Writing a great chapter
Between human and raptor.
In on-line dating there are these annoying profiles. They have no pictures and very little information. In other words, they are clogging the channel for us serious daters. Frustrated, I sent the following. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get a response back.
Who are You?
Are you really mean?
That's why you can't be seen?
Do you get a lot of lectures?
Why no posted pictures?
Are you a cougar, a predator?
Sneaking up, disturbing no air?
Seeing but not seen.
Disappearing if not keen.
Are you window shopping?
Or are you stopping
To send out messages?
Or to receive blind passes?
Has she come back?
I scream, nobody hears.
My eyes, flooded with tears.
Pounding, pounding the door.
Exhausted, fall to the floor.
Why is it that no one can see?
How hard does it really have to be?
Aren't I special, aren't I enough?
Isn't it worth it, is it that tough?
I inhale, look for the quiet.
I exhale, hold back the riot.
I listen, give me the message.
I regard, show me the passage.
Helen and I talk fairly often. One of the things we have in common is this on-line dating. I have a few good stories but so does she. She shares with me one “advance” and, sorry, but it inspired me to write:
Buck and Merle are no longer alive.
I should blow this town and hit the I-5.
Carrots and almonds are too hard of work.
Guitar picking is easier for this old turk.
Oh Helen, Dear Helen can't you but see,
How together we fit so perfectly.
Oh Helen, Dear Helen don't make me guess,
Sitting by my keyboard waiting for yes.
So I set my sights on heading north.
Doc said it would be without my horse.
And my poor dog Bo, I no longer see.
He disappeared at the truck stop in Weed.
I finally arrived at this small town.
Looking for true love, but where's it found.
Fired up the ole laptop and went on-line.
Hoping there would be one to find.
Your profile caught my heart for sure.
I read it three times to get all the words.
You look so fine in that eye-talian dress.
I'm sure you can look past my cowboy mess.
We are a perfect match, we must meet.
If not my heart will stop it's beat.
I'll impress you, for sure I'm clever.
We can hold hands and walk forever.
I consider this a country song. However, I don’t know when it will ever be complete because music is not one of my strengths.
We have left the Ell period (and of course, that is not her real name). We are now entering the Helenic period. Helen is a good name for her for many reasons but primarily, where Ell ignited and played with my poetry, Helen has inspired.
Sharp readers will have noted a reference to Helen in September of ’16. She was a long distance relationship (LDR). She wrote an excellent profile, which is how you catch my attention on this site. We emailed, texted and phoned. A date was arraigned in her town. I think it went well, even for me. We took a long walk and talk after a long lunch. We agreed to set up a second date at some upcoming Oktoberfest event. I went home happy. And then she cancelled. Turns out I wasn’t the one. Lights out.
And then I hear from her again. What, 6,7,8 months later. She essentially explains that she missed my friendship and I, of course, completely misinterpret the situation. I insist on playing an ’80s brat pack movie, with me playing the role of the smitten geek in pursuit. However, I think to myself, I’m now a poet. Who could resist? So poetry started flowing.
I can do my chores, clean my messes.
I can feed myself, comb my tresses.
I am totally able to do my finances.
I am wholly, completely secure in my oneness.
One is the most special of numbers.
Unlike adding to any other,
If you take the time and the trouble,
Adding one to one makes it double.
Two opens the door for rapport.
Two offers a place for comfort.
Two provides something to support.
Two explains the reason to court.
It is off to the races. Enjoy.