SONS SONS (WAR AND PEACE)

SONS OF SONS (WAR AND PEACE)

…and i will call to you             when the shooting stops           call your name

will you be one to remain         one who is left                         or will i find your body

lying dead upon the field          your eyes no longer see           your ears no longer hear

still, the little boy you were       a mother can see it no other way          tears form

roll down the cheek                 through the veil                        threw one more cast

you step into the icy water        excited about the prospect       a fish on your line

fish for dinner                          this day perfect                        without knowing

this day would pass                 would not return again             there would be other days

but none as perfect                   i breathe deep                          sweet scent of honeysuckle

memories flood back               the fighting over                       i see you whole and well again

war accomplishes nothing        you send a “tweet”                   make threats

each time                                 sons will die                             and sons of sons

will die                                     bodies lying on the field           threats uttered carelessly

June 28, 2017

“War does not determine who is right – only who is left” — Bertrand Russell

                                   

A Blessing True --dVerse

A BLESSING TRUE

like a veil                     thin gauzy                    used in motion pictures

a world without flaws     blemishes disappear               like a dream

a garden chime sounds /caught by a gentle breeze        it floats down
                                                                                     around you       

comforts you                like a protective shield             protects you
                                                                                    from harm

                       

you hold out your hands to me /palms side up         make a little cup          

an offering you extend/i hold out my hands to you/ i accept your gift                     

a blessing indeed          like the sunset                  a gift of gold

i give back to you       as blessings go              not too big/nor too small                                          

i pull it close around me           the gift is perfect        after all

June 27, 2017

            

Summer -- dVerse Haibun Monday

Summer is a fleeting privilege.  Each one the same, each different.  This is the 75 summer of my life.

I grew up on the Texas coast, as a child, and into adulthood, summers were filled with beach parties, wiener roasts, roasted marshmallows, and watermelon.  Charging into the waves, to be knocked down, get up and charge again.  The way the sand felt under foot, as the waves returned to the sea.  The cry of the seagulls as they dived for food.  Collecting shells on the shore.  Any day was a good day for a picnic.

Now, I live in the high mountain desert of New Mexico, ancient old, land of enchantment.  Summers are mostly cool, and the nights cooler.  Seagulls are replaced by the rowdy magpies, who scream and quarrel while sitting on fence posts or dive bomb into the sagebrush while playing tag.  There are no beaches to roam, no shells to collect.  Instead, we collect the biggest blue skies and the most incredible sunsets, that could break your heart.  I am in love with the land, and after all, when a summer has come and gone, it will not return again in just the same way, next summer will be different.

My view stretches all the way to the horizon

Or is stopped by the mountains

Each day torn from the big book of magic