You can hear the sound of this machine working – you know you can – if you’re as old as me, and grew up in a small Midwestern town, she was an occasional reality. We heard about newfangled ways of serving others, but what we had was good enough. We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error, no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life. I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s, yet we were proud. Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here, if you’ll allow it.
what is time without a watchful eye, til color fades, we mustn’t gray tones allow hope say it is so, dear one. how is it my hands feel the road and its bumps, while tires roll atop – proof we’ve been here before and what a journey it was. clouds become pillows, for murmurs under the sheets, and the rain in the distance a melody I remember and cherish, please believe. today is full of beauty, I smirk yet again. passionate in the ordinary I shall remain, and glimpses of tomorrows shall nudge me forward, across the plains.
when gathering for granddad’s funeral no one’s vehicle tires turned into the yard similarly. even gravel sounded different as folks drove in and chose a place to park. the earth where his brown Ford pickup had been parked for nearly 70 years – until Uncle drove it away – had grass growing again, but had for nearly fifteen years, I suppose. I wonder if I’m the only one who noticed. I never asked.
Where did my thoughts go Back burner, they’d disclose Who chased me away A silly dream, I’d say How come I’m quiet Learning my place, but I digress What’s the plan To heal and begin again, I guess When will you emerge Today.
peruse, but take care; vulnerable: only the prelude to what is needed when describing her. sensuous verdure, yet saffron is shy’s color in nature. Autumn breezes by she feels him upon her skin and she yearns for more, His protection everything.