More Notes From A Previously Reinvented Life

On Visiting A "Relative"

When traveling through foreign lands
Like Rogersville and Birmingham,
We meet the most peculiar folks
With names like Richard, Fay or Dan.
Because we find the place so strange
We seek a course along the main,
To make our instant friendships last
And keep our sights within the range.
Of course, we’re prone to look around,
To play and joke -- act like a clown --
While in our eyes we know what’s real
We smile, we blush, perhaps look down.
So let’s just say that flirting’s fun,
That when you thrust your jesting sword --
Your voice, the edge that cuts and runs --
We never lack for being bored.

-- 18 December 1989

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Fountain of Youth (for Betty)

Though the spring of your youth has bloomed and dried,
Your youthful smile lives on...
Though summer’s swimful mood has swept you by,
You swim effortlessly through life’s daily tides...
Though fall has finally come with its forest quilt,
You keep your head high,
Your walk vivacious,
Your voice as strong as the roaring, springtide stream
(Yet gentle as the creek where the swallows gather in the evening)...
Though long you’ve seen this planet Earth (or so it seems) --
This small, small world where we live our meager lives --
You see the shortness of life, how one brief life leads to another,
Passing the elations and disappointments to the next generation.
Do not despair, for we are not judged by those around us
(Or how they choose to respond to us);
Our judgment comes from a higher source Who knows our hearts
and has often carried our burdens.
He gives us a fountain of youth when all life has to offer is a drought of troubles.

-- 28 June 1988

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For Betty

The choices we make in our delicate lives
Lead us gently throughout the day.
Though beset with coarse and dreadful lies
We bite our lips and find our way
Toward quiet, peaceful moments where
We briefly stop to sigh, and tell
The ones who haven’t yet to dare
To try, that all is never well.
The changes, troubles and evident trials
We face each day, that put us through
The wrinkles and gray hair, the short and long miles
We have to walk, and while we do
We raise our children, teach them love;
Attention we give freely despite
Our woes. Although we reach above
Ourselves, someone dims the light
And leaves us wondering where we’ve climbed;
No time to stop, we grope for holds
Within our grasp and wait. In time,
An outreached Hand of aged folds,
A Hand we’ve known though never seen,
Will firmly guide us up and shed
Our fears of those both cruel and mean
Who’d rather bring us to the dead
Than help us in our living. This Hand
We trust though seldom use has met
Our needs through the years. Our grand,
Ambitious plans cause us to fret
But welcome Arms embrace our tense
And worried lives to slow our pace.
Our structured lives built like a fence
Are held together by His grace.

-- 7 March 1990

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Sunny Bonnet, Bonnie Sonnet

I give to you my only sun, my sun
Whose voice is sweet and low. The sound you hear
Within your heart and soul makes haste to run
Yet walks anew. Though now you seem to fear
Alone, you soon will find you’re in a crowd
And while you search and seek in vain to find
The other soul whose tenor voice is loud,
The one you seek waits here within your mind.
No sooner than a moment and you hold
That voice within your hand. Now wait, take note,
Don’t take a step! You think you’re quite a bold
And forward gal. Forget we learn by rote?
Let’s both sit down and kiss awhile. Before
We do, let’s take a breath and kiss some more.

-- 12 March 1990

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Waiting Out The Storm

Alone, but not lonely, in this concrete cage,
Tornadoes raging outside,
Silence all around, broken occasionally by footsteps in the hall --
People laughing, relieved the storm is passing --
The boss says we can go.
Where can I go? Home? Home to safety?
What safety net waits to catch me?

-- 1 May 1990

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