Thursday, July 24, 2014

I Think...

All heroes don't wear capes.
Everyone can get along.
Tears are as real as
Mark Harmon is not the only guy
who can rock this haircut.
Funny faces are fun.
Fires can be like revenge
especially with thorny plants.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Let 'Er Burn!

Hubby couldn't stand it.
He had to strike the match.
I cleared some more
and more.
Hubby had a great idea.
Far easier than carrying it to the pile.
Stoking the fire was easier too.
I just couldn't cut fast enough.
The next project waits.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Work Continues...

Oh, no, not more brush piles!!!  I am on a roll!  The weather has been perfect for trimming.  I think I have pulled some twenty foot briers out of trees.  I have seen ground I have not seen in years.  Life is good.  I am seeing progress.
And one more pile almost gone.
Hubby had a great idea.
Far better than me carrying arm loads at a time.
Two piles gone.
Many more to go.

Monday, July 21, 2014

A Moon Beam For Open Link...

I tried to pick
A moon beam
From the rug
Where it lay
Slipped right
Through my fingers
Went on its merry way

I thought of fairies
Star dust
About children
Who have an octopus
For a pet
And wishes

I clapped my hands for Tinkerbell
I searched for the rainbow
I gathered stardust in buckets
I cried for the children
Then with only love
And a little magic
I caught a moonbeam
For Open Link at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
 Inspired by Brian Miller's Who Can Tame The Tides//"

Saturday, July 19, 2014

An Early Morning Tale

These hands pained me this morning telling a weather change was coming.  My hands did more work when they weren't knotted and gnarled from age and accidents.

Warming by the wood cook stove I waited for the coffee to perk. The percolator was a welcome sound that ushered in the day while I made plans.

These knotty fingers have sewn quilts and stitched up wounds.  They have birthed babies and spanked children when it was the common practice.  They have milked cows and have made biscuits all without a thought of them ever failing me.

Pulling my shawl around me and the chair closer to the fire I listened to the rhythmic sound of the coffee pot.  Billy Jo, bless her heart, had brought an electric coffee pot.  It still sat in its box unopened. No reason to use it since there was only me.

Husband gone this past winter, two children passed before the age of reason.  Just me now in this old house that had been so full of life years past.  This is where my marriage bed was.  I did my duties for my husband all these years.  Tried to bear and raise my young ones, tried to a good wife and mother.  Here in later years the grands used to gather around this old chair eager for my words and stories.

They have their own lives now and it's just me and The Duke who warms by the fire with me every winter morning. 

Most of my friends have already passed.  That's the sad thing about aging; the people you know begin to die off.

The coffee finally perked to perfection I poured a cup, black as I always take it, holding it in both hands for the warmth as the coffee cooled.  The tin cup that belonged to my mother's mother not only warmed my hands but also warmed my heart.

I continued to sit, rocking a little, smiling at old thoughts of passed times.

I patted the old dog.  He woke when I said, "It's just you and me."  The dog looked at me a moment and laid his head onto his paws to rest.

My grandson would be coming soon to take me to get some "staples" I needed.  

I smiled, closed my eyes and rocked in the warmth of the past.
The grandson arrived.  The smoke rising from the chimney caused his own memories come to life as he walked toward the house to greet his grandmother.

The dog whined then howled as he reached the door. This was odd behavior even for The Duke.  When the knock and shout went unanswered the middle-aged grandson opened the door.

He found her in the rocking chair pulled up close to the fire.  Her favorite coffee cup laid spilled beside her.  

When The Duke howled again, the grandson knew the matriarch was gone.  Still warm in her chair she sat as always with a smile on her face that said the journey home had been a peaceful ride.

The Duke howled.

The grandson kissed his grandmother's cheek, swallowed his tears and reached for his cell phone, punching in 911.
Unexpected for Poetry Jam

Friday, July 18, 2014

I Met Another Me

She laughed often
Cried easily
Loved the days more

Following her dreams
She wore paint on her clothing
From masterpieces
Along with horse hair

Her journal was filled
With magic
And sketches

Meeting her
She asked.
"Why not you?"
I could only cry
For Fireblossom Friday at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Showing My Bloomers