Sleep, my friend, and dream of youth and glory days,
when the heat of sun in summer burned a hole through clouds and haze,
and we focused on the present, for the past was gone and done,
and we waited, for the balance of our lives had not begun.

Wake, my friend, and see the living all around, for your
family and your friends are most surely gathered ‘round to
hold your hand, and whisper words of hope and faith and prayer, and
know that God is listening, and know that God is there.

Cry, my friend, for tears, like rain, will help to cleanse the soul.
Understand He has a purpose, understand He has a goal,
and even though it isn’t fair, He is with you every hour
so thank Him for your blessings, and rejoice in Heaven’s power.

Sing, my friend, with angels, when the pain of life is gone,
and your family and your friends are left on earth to carry on,
but only for a second, then they will be with you again,
for life on earth is fleeting, eternal life will never end.
Phil Lindsey 8/4/17

Looking out my bedroom window
past the bluebirds and cardinals
vying for position on the seed-filled feeder,
past the doves and the squirrels
shamelessly settling for the leftovers below,
past the obligatory but unused lawn furniture,
past the turtles and storks and herons, and
past an alligator swimming slowly, but purposefully,
toward his place in the sun,
I can see the second green and the third tee
of the golf course where I live.

In these days of pandemic and social distancing
the golfers each drive their own cart.
On the putting green players stand six to ten feet apart,
no one touches the flagstick,
there are no high fives,
no shaking hands.

The green carts are driven
down the cart path
one-by-one
from two green
to three tee,
like four green baby ducks
following each other,
identical, synchronous, six to ten feet apart.

After teeing off
the players in the carts
again follow each other
one-by-one to the end of the path
before scattering
to the fairway or the bunker or the woods
or the edge of the lake
where the alligator has fallen asleep
in the sun with his mouth open
as if he is warning the golfers
to maintain the appropriate social distance.
Considerably more than six to ten feet apart.

Awakening
Cascading time
Crashing over the edge of oblivion

I swear
Two weeks ago
I was just turning eighteen

Last night
I was almost
Twenty five

This morning
Is edging close
To thirty years old

Awakening
Not to a new day
But to a decade long gone

Shallow pools of rainwater
The sound of an engine running
Blue and bright
Between light and lofty whites
Wafting tendrils of steam
Curled and unfurling
Like fresh april blooms
Infant flowers and leaves
Flowers and levers
Flow and weave
Follow or leave
Floral trees
In the spring breeze

Tap out, tap in, tap into me
Holy water, maple syrup
Geyser of ecstasy
*** in me

If I could be on the brink, I’d be on the edge of you. ******* down from the high, height. Steepened with deepened strokes.

You draped this mantle round my shivering shoulders, tied it tightly to my neck. Kept the cold out and the anxiety in. You birthed a bouquet of depression, and you fill my vase every chance you get. Kept the cold out and the anxiety in. Bestowed upon me this token of toting your baggage around.

I judge you for your idols and superstitions,
But here I am, praying for you to love me. Hoping beyond hope if I zip my lips and sit on my fists you will

Willingly bill me for a kiss still lingering on your lips. Sweat stained sheets. I’d apologize if I had the guts, but I gave them to you.

The worst things last for 30 minutes
The best things last for 30 seconds
Life happens between those moments.

Meet me in the middle
Where the threads unwind and whittle
My spine weaves and squiggles
Symphony of sighs
You’re my relief

I would find the rainbow's end
To reclaim lost treasures
That went missing over my many years.

Some, mere sparkle a crow might crave;
Others, minor shadows in Plato's cave.
In some kind of after life,
Will I find my gold penknife?

I lost it on Easter Sunday:
Jake flashed it on John's jacket;
From nape to back bottom *****,
He sliced the new dress coat in half.
My penknife vanished,
Like the invisible mend.

I miss my pubescent chums,
When imagination was all the fun.
But really, we would look askance,
Not actually sure of a come-by-chance.

Youth got lost, slipped off my face;
I got distracted, it got replaced.

Friends and family have gone,
And with them took
Their share of treasures.

Should you, my dears,
Be lost, I will find you,
Everywhere.
In albums, jewelry boxes,
Closets and cushions.
I'll search the last place first.