The sapphire surface was dappled
in April sunshine
Evergreen seeds soared in the
morning breeze
Bluejays , Warblers and Finches
announced the rite of Springtide
Songbirds of every color replied
from her hardwood canopies
A psalm from every tree
A shower of blessings unto me* ..

My grandparents have returned as
the sunny new day , my Dad is the
Christmas holiday
My friend Tim is music that touches my
heart , Mama Kuhn is the pen I use
to share my art* ..

The lake road spoiled ,
a pulp wood ravaged
landscape , the stench of
diesel , grease and oil
Clear cutting , soil busting ,
stump burning attack of the
woodland , roads turned to roil ,
black grass , untouchable slurry
Men in destructive machines
Hell bent detractive flurry of death
A wreath for a lot on Palmetto-Cascade Highway
today* ..

My muse , the springtime earth
The smoke of chimney
fires just as the daystar expires ,
with burnt orange goodbyes ,
'tis a diddy begging lyrics , a melody
in the moment , a dash of fleeting sunlight
in the Shangri-La forest ,
Copper , lavender , technicolor salutations
Mourning dove recitations* ...

Nights encroachment is changing the face of town ,
an orange star phasing out ,
the borough is closing down
The elderly are content from front porches
the children called to dinner ,
bicycles , baseball bats and chalk are left
on the ground ,
the sound of buses and semis , the last train
headed south
Artificial light slowly filtering out
She's slowly , methodically , shutting down

If I could be Bear Creek ,
free flowing ,
broad shouldered ,
calm in the heat of summer ,
ferocious in the midst of the storm ,
fluid in every situation ..
Marching to the love of the sea ,
in touch with every bird , every tree
Grinding stones to do my bidding ,
every grain of sand at my beck and call ,
my life's blood a cascading waterfall , enrapturing
the hearts and minds of lovers , firing the
imagination of the young , providing sustenance
to the evening dove , my thoughts are a
virtual flood before parched earth , relieving the dusty trail ,
filling the lowland with love , nourishing
the beast of the field , a living monument before my brothers*...

Spray grazed my brow
from the wooden trestle ,
her countenance was of thunder and
explosiveness devoured by the
piedmont countryside

Hamburgers and hot dogs ,
lemonade , fried sweet potato pies an scuppernongs
Saturday night revivals and county -
fairs
Convocation and worship in the
warm , sweet summer air

White wispy plumes on blue curtains
Contrails headed north
Contrails headed south
Busy jet planes flying about
Some flying low
Some flying high
Hurried jet planes in the south Atlanta
sky

What was the inspiration
for country ponds , for carefree
bodies of water nurturing native songs
Filling young hearts , blue mirrors with tall pine edges ,
carefree days 'neath cozy river birches
Dragonfly prancers and rock bass river dancers ,
sultry bullfrog diddies , red clay marsh , rolled up
britches , sacks of sandwiches , straw hats ,
cardinals , egrets , herons , chickadees and finches
Rain cooled July breezes , row upon row of knee high corn ,
blackberry , blueberry and dewberry thorns
Songs of the creek , of highland hayfield and crystal clear rivers
Tales of arrowheads , tomahawks and hawk feather quivers
The confluence of neighboring streams
The story of piedmont dreams

Her white brick storefronts were bathed in March
showers and Spring flowers
Umbrellas depicted every shade of the rainbow ,
A gaggle of blackbirds sang paeans from the courthouse
square ,
The bell tower struck the noon hour
No one seemed to really care
Appointments were being addressed ,
diners were serving lunch , traffic slowed to a capricious halt ,
rainy weather fraught with cold and visible breath
Sunshine struggled for a moment ,
only to be buried in gray blankets* ...