Hartford Cemetery Not

I have asked for two clergy officiating memorial after cremation, Dust, gray ash, death pall of my woody skin, but Turtle Creek Flows into my heart, lungs, kidneys, bones, these are part Of our home. Organs constructed sometimes fail, pacemaker Functioning well, however… Cigarettes gone for 18 years, Arthritis in my spine pushed to acheContinue reading “Hartford Cemetery Not”

Andrew, Brother of Life

My mind like a river rushes forth, only creek Into day, I’ve lost yesterday, Winter gone God can see, not rushing drops, Water in me Water divine, I long for my growth of green Well into Creek Bed banks, brown rising Life it’s Water Spring of this creek, called Turtle Creek Well done servant Faithfully,Continue reading “Andrew, Brother of Life”

My Life is Gratitude–Happiness, My Brother!

May I say I am filled with Joy? Yes I may. I may rejoice in non-violence Of the Tree planted by the water That sinks its roots deep into soil, When drought comes it bears fruit, Love and kindness, this is what I am? Fullfilment of my father’s joy, I am the oldest, My responsibilityContinue reading “My Life is Gratitude–Happiness, My Brother!”

Christian, What If?

What if, she’d listened 10 years Ago, listening to Tenor David M. On Christmas Eve, she actually Listened to his voice command What’s more of Grace, yes fashioning Grace, the real surrender to Power Greater than one’s self, not machine Nor explosion, Power behind each Natural or non-natural event,. The Great God as opened inContinue reading “Christian, What If?”

Beauty in Our Small Town

Again, the smallest yet not small At all. Question–three-thousand souls, Babies, farmers, children, wives, daughters Sons, life unrequited living together More harmony; when someone hurts We remember morning kindnesses done to meWhen I bother, I am old with stories intrigueFrom gunmen, casualty,¬†We gather as harmonicsInto our harmony, more than weeklyThat becomes our tenderness our understandingOfContinue reading “Beauty in Our Small Town”

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”