Till my Trophies at Last

Exchanged my worn, weary, ragged, body On Thanksgiving night, a day of my night Exchanged ever be true, my mother’s hands Raised in adoration of Jesus, “On Sunday Evenings I’d watch her close eyes, raise Hands over head, and mouth quietly Much…to my mind was simplicity, “Thank you Jesus.” I thought she was Faking it,Continue reading “Till my Trophies at Last”

Mother’s Great Maple Tree

Floating through Iowa morning sky, I remember childhood of space travel, Allen Shepard, John Glenn, they’d made it, For me in Iowa, East Side, I dreamed Up that old Great Maple, wings for seed, In South Dakota could such as these exist? Yet, trees unlike South Dakota, grew on 47th street, Sixty-years, Maple out ofContinue reading “Mother’s Great Maple Tree”

So Anxious In That Art

May we once again experience beauty In the crabapple, Crabby Appleton villain He withstood tests of time over 62 years, Then small boy of seven watching with bent Eyes, mother into mommy, into mom, Never Dorothy, worthy woman, she was Bitten by divorce, to be called as single Parent, Two children “Whore, you whore, Out,Continue reading “So Anxious In That Art”