You were always the fruit tree
new light of promised hope in spring
sweet pears within the summer of your days
the flowing wine of a full ripe season
and when autumn came
it reached with shadowed fingers
to pluck you from the wall
you stood alone against the wind
while we your living leaves were scattered
root and branch, stripped base and bare
it was then we watched you fall
there was heart in you my friend,
you gave your all

-


i think of summer solstice as
a reminder for God to let the
earth back down

it's not supposed to
stay up there forever—

that's what kids are for...




s jones
Jun 2024



.

In the eerie hours half asleep
I heard my name in a soft voice.

It was a wake up call I couldn't resist
The jungle was in dark mist
The night ending but morning was still frail
The call was to tread on the fallen leaves trail.

The trees were shaded dark the sky was pale
Every bush was where the shadows fell
Quiet was the air our heart tautly tense
We tiptoed our best, and it made sense.

Tweet of early birds didn't sound sweet
Danger awaited at all sides to meet
We strained ears for the slightest sound
The jungle a romance on a perilous ground.

On the dry boulded river shapes were deep
Moving in a herd crawling to the steep
We stood frozen on this other side
To let the distance between grow wide.

Years have flown and whenever in the woods
I see my father's figure in jungle brood
He wakes me up and stretches his hand
We fly through the bushes in jungle land.

They say it's
the sport of kings.
I have royal
memories of being
at Santa Anita and
Hollywood Park with
my dad and brother.
As kids, we watched
some of the best horses
and jockeys in the world.
The jocks were our
tiny heroes, gladiators
in silks riding tremendous
beasts.

Dad taught us
how to bet and study
the horses.
He called it
doping the form.
I liked the show bet.
I still cashed the ticket, as
long as the horse didn't
do worse than third.
My heart still gallops when
I think of those Southern
California afternoons.

Dad used to say, don't ever
gamble what you can't
afford to lose.
I live with my brother
now in Iowa.
Dad is long gone, and so is
the shoe, our favorite ****.
There are new jockeys on
the scene.  New horses.

We drove to Des Moines, to do
some off-track betting on
the Kentucky Derby.
The pageantry is decadent.
The hats and mint juleps.
Someone sings a beautiful
version of, My Old Kentucky Home.
It was truly a sublime scene.

Now, we have to
figure out how
we are going to pay
the rent.