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Don Bouchard Sep 2023
Autumnal Wanderings

Summer's heat leaves us wilted,
Potted tomatoes drying on the deck.
Water helps, and evening's shade
Reminds us of the coming dread.

Ash trees drop late summer's shed;
Yellow leaves litter grass now lost;
Dog days oppress us as we yawn,
Ennui of heat turns our desire to frost.

We are not content at summers' turning fall;
We miss the verdant greens of spring;
We dread the snow, the wintry cold;
No longer young, we fight our growing old.
One of the longest summers of 90 plus degrees each day is coming to an end. Mentally, I am flirting with the desire for frost.
Don Bouchard Aug 2023
The semester has begun,
Textbooks, scuffless, new,
Slung lightly in my students' packs
As they begin their freshman track.

Thirty-seven new beginnings on,
I am an old horse about to plow,
Semester settling on my shoulders,
Horse collar creaking to the strain
As earth yields and rolls to the side.
Fall plowing the back 40 has begun.
Routines and Rhythms of the Academic Life
Don Bouchard Aug 2023
Mom,

The lilacs are blooming now.
I remember how you loved them,
How the Avon lady sold you lilac spray
To make your lavender bedroom come alive,
The sweet scent of May in January.

I breathe these lilacs in, and you appear, Verna May.
Springtime is alive again with you.

2023
Don Bouchard Aug 2023
"Papa, we want to fish!"

We gather the digging tools,
The plastic pail,
The poles and the wagon.
My old fishing pack rides in the back.

First stop, garden, to unearth
Peaceful worms
For a hook and a bath.
Our fingers are black with soil.

The walk to the pond is hot.
The bank and the shade help.
Bullheads are our only customers,
Making worms' sacrifice a shame.

The girls soon tire and run to play,
While the boy and I try on.
"Here," I say, "I'll teach you to cast."
He looks at me, shading his eyes with his hand.

His little thumb barely reaches the release,
But his determination and natural skill
Produce perfect casts within minutes.
The line arcs high and falls, arcs high and falls.

I am no longer necessary for casting,
And soon he'll figure how to run the hook
Inside the worms' wriggling to hide the barbs.
Today is a most important day for both of us.

Some day, when I am gone away,
I hope he'll repeat this ancient ritual,
Digging in dirt, uncovering worms,
Teaching his grandchildren to fish.
Happiness and Sadness. Reflection
Don Bouchard Aug 2023
I imagine a breath of celestial air;
I say I'll face the ground,
Afraid to see the Almighty.
But how?

If Jehovah is above and below,
Within and without,
Beside, behind, and before,
Everywhere at once...and more,
I'll have nothing in store:
No attitude, no posture,
No stumbling alibis...
No critical questions arise,
No time left to philosophize...

He sees me throughout;
He sees through my eyes;
He's in my thoughts;
He knows my truths...and lies.

I will attempt quietness
Though my mind rushes on;
He is here in tumult & solitude
Present in the garden and in the multitude.
James 4:6
Verse Concepts
But He gives a greater grace. Therefore it says, “God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” Lord, help me.
Don Bouchard Jul 2023
Love demands Truth.
Love that bends and lies to pacify feelings
When Truth stands, resolute, cannot be
True Love.

It may be frightened, maudlin, corrupted,
Or many other things, but it cannot be
True Love.

Some, hoping to change the shape of Love,
Would pummel the footings of Truth,
But they haven't shovels enough,
Nor dynamite powerful enough,
Nor lies lasting long enough to dislodge
True Love.

True Love stands resolutely with Truth.
This relationship has always existed, always will,
While the Resistance has a beginning,
It must eventually meet its end.

      (DB, meanderings, July 10, 2023)
Thinking about vicissitudes of existence. What Solid Rock can I set my anchor to in the Sturm und Drang?
  Feb 2023 Don Bouchard
Marshal Gebbie
Vermillion streaks in stratus, dark
Against the very heart of night,
Bands of deep red in the shroud
Portend approaching cyclone's might.
Morning shards of  fractured cloud
Stream across a shattered sky,
Smothered sun in shadowed orb
Against where apprehension's lie.

South East winds arising now
Tussock billowing in dale
Trees commence a windward thrash
In lieu of kiss of coming gale.
Greyness of a leaden sea
In the lee of storm's approach,
Beneath the streaming sand dunes
The seagulls shelter, in reproach.

Mounting gusts of boisterous wind
Cascade along the lamp lit way
Schoolgirls shriek as skirts fly high
And ominously, skies turn grey.
Supermarkets, in the city
Teem with queues in panic buy,
Grab bags now the urgent item
Just in case the flooding's high.

Traffic blocks the bridge and byways
Wan in headlights falling rain,
Anxiously, the need to be home
Frought anticipation's pain.
All the birds have disappeared
Vanished, in the sudden still,
Eery in the misting rainfall
Frightening, in a mystic chill.

Havoc as she sets upon us
Howling wind and teeming rain,
Horizontal onslaught blasting
Gabriella's Song by name!
Bridges under siege with flooding
Trees down over roads,
Monstrous waves in tidal surging
Causing coastal overloads.

Imprisonment by sandbags
As flooded rivers overflow
In blinding rain of maelstrom teeming
Anywhere and everywhere you go.
Inundated cars on freeway
Flashing hazards submerged deep,
Rescued souls lost, bewildered
In sudden-ness disaster reaps.

Massive trees are torn asunder
Blasted foliage thrashing wild
Torrents rage through streambed gullies
Gabrielle, destruction's child!
..............
Aftermath of horror's silence
Hollow eyed and gaping jaw
A nightmare for your sanity?
Nay,  Gabriella's Song.... is flawed.

M@Foxglove,Taranaki NZ
A direct hit by Cyclone Gabrielle on a vulnerable New Zealand, adrift in the vast South Pacific Ocean
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