Month: September 2016

LOOKING BACK

I see them now, the friends of my childhood.

We had the run of the Pine Hill neighborhood:

Out on the vacant lot swinging at softballs,

Called home by porch bells and whistles at nightfall.

Pauline was my first mate, found at age three.

Then there were Millie and Peewee and Jeanne.

We walked as a foursome to the Anderson School,

Played Cowboys and Injuns in adjacent woods.

Weekends and evenings older brothers joined in

For Kick the Can, Ringolivio or Sardines,

Scrambled on cliffs overlooking the hospital,

(Conveniently placed should one of us fall)

Or perhaps tried a game of croquet in our yard,

Rollerskating or biking or rainy day cards.

Those were Depression days, parents worked hard.

Those were our glory days, fondly remembered.

(Inspired by our Chorus’ rendering of “Song for the Mira”

BIRD LORE

“I saw an eagle in a tree!”

She cried.  “I know it was an omen

That God intended me to see.

And yesterday I saw a hawk

On top of a telephone pole.

Oh how I wish it could have talked

And told me the meaning of it all.”

The pagans thought birds could predict,

And Indians tell us what they mean.

An eagle is a holy spirit.

A hawk is wisdom with vision keen.

There is much comfort in such beliefs

Though eagles do winter on our bay

And hawks seek prey on our highways.

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

I take no little solace

From the thought of being free

Of crypt or tomb or coffin

When I cease from being me.

I do not want to molder

Underground or in an urn.

No, my elements should mingle

With the mosses and the ferns

Or perhaps make up an atom

In the branches of a tree.

How else can spirit wander

Blithely through eternity?

The Christian tale should teach us

That the tomb did not hold Jesus.