Friday, April 12, 2013

The Fishing Hole

I rained so hard this morning that
traffic was a nightmare. Visibility was
about 15 feet and I was relieved when it slowed to
a crawl for once. I didn’t complain this time
 I just whispered under my breath, “Thank you, Lord”.
By afternoon the rain was gone and the sun was out
 and the only thing on my mind was…how can I sneak
out of work early and go fishing? Of course, I knew I couldn’t.
But tomorrow is Saturday and my men’s group is not meeting
at 10 so I will be up early and you know where… that’s right
The Fishing Hole.

When Waders are Wet

When waders are wet

And fly is on the tippet

Elusive brown bites

Monday, April 8, 2013

Spring has come

The chill of winter is gone
Fragrance fills the air
Cherry Blossoms are in bloom

Sunday, April 7, 2013

When Angels Cry

I heard it said the other day

that when someone dies

all the angles cry.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

There is no reason for tears

on that day; instead

it’s a day to celebrate.

 For leaving this earth and its hardship

and ascend to God’s heavenly home,

has got to be a joyous occasion;

not one of sorrow.

The devil and death I fear not,

God’s mercy and grace keep me warm.

 I implore the angles Rejoice when I die;

Rejoice for I’m coming home.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

What an almost perfect summer's day

It was a barefoot, shirtless, shorts kind of day

Creek-water mud squishing between our toes

The rope swing dangling from the tall oak tree

Inviting us to swing around-the-world if we pleased

What an almost perfect summer’s day


After hours of playing make-believe

Cowboys and Indians and Pirates were we

It was time to head home to dinner

And T.V.  This we all could agree

What an almost perfect summer’s day


It was then that I saw him emerge from the trees

He stood by the creek bank and beckoned to me

“Would you mind staying behind? Take photos with me?”

All this he asked with a smile. “It won’t take long. You’ll see”.

What an almost perfect summer’s day

My world was baseball and marbles and climbing trees

And running and jumping and catching bees

These things I knew and I knew them well

But nothing I knew of photograph

What an almost perfect summer’s day


There are times I wish I were sick that day

Or  being punished and not allowed out to play

But we can not go back nor change what’s been done

We can only forgive and forget and with God’s grace move on

What an almost perfect summer’s day


Friday, April 5, 2013

The Wall


It has taken a while, but I finally went to see you.

Not physically, that’s impossible, but in spirit, as

I look at your name on that Black Marbled Wall. I was told

that you died over there. They didn’t tell me till a year or so

 after I returned for fear of how I would take it.

 I didn’t take it well. And when I went to our 25th  High School Reunion

and saw your name on the program under posthumous,  I didn’t

take that well,either. Have never gone to another one since.

I found Al that day on the wall while I was there.

You didn’t know Al. He and I were bunker buddies

in Khe Sanh. We used to sneak up to the supply depot at night,

stopping by the Med Unit first to grab a stretcher, and grab

boxes of supplies, never knowing what we had till

we got back to our bunker and opened them up. Everyone

would come by and we would share our bounty with them.

Al didn’t make it.

He died on some forgotten hill. I have to tell you,

I’m still afraid to look for any guys I left behind. I guess in my mind

I’d rather think that they got back to the World like I did,

got married, raised a family and are looking to retire soon,

move to Florida and spend their days fishing. I know you would

have had plans much the same. I tell you what brother,

when I get there I promise I will put a rod out for you and Al

and open a beer or two.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Huntress

With patience the feline waited,

not moving a muscle or hair.

Poised in silence she hunkered,

awaiting her labors to bare.

 Time passed without any answer,

steadfast she lie near and low.

Awaiting that one special moment,

claws sharpened and eager to go.

 Spying the hole in the floorboard,

now knowing her prize was near.

The huntress moved ever so swiftly,

as velvet-gray ears did appear.

 With speed like a bolt of lightning,

she leaped and harpooned her prey.

For lunch that day it was eaten,

after three quarter hours of play.