Like forgotten lines dancing around love
that never bloomed,
knowing not where to start or end.
You will know when you look
at the blurs that form
when crossing the night
once again.

Stretching across the lines are flowers
that once planned to brush the lips
of all the answers
you need.
Yet, the smile on your face
could change the mind,
overwhelm the heart
of destiny.

In the distance I see rain
coming down from the air of dreams
full of laughs and smiles
taking flight.
I stare for such a long time
knowing it could all soon go away,
and my heart cries
as I write.

Forgotten lines cut into winds
that wander
but have always been right there
dancing around love
that could bloom.
Without moving far off
or crossing the night
we can still
smell
Hope’s perfume.

Sweet New England;
its where my heart is, and where I belong.
I know,
the day I left I buried it deep
on the western prom of Portland Maine
to call me back someday
though I may be old and frail
when that times comes.
And though I am southern born
it’s scents, moods, colors and cold
have etched themselves like scrimshaw onto my soul.
I now want my bones shattered by frost,
not left to mildew in the humid southern heat.

For me New England’s like warm light
shining through frost covered windows,
or a cozy, cluttered old room
filled with the bric brac of a life long well lived,
an attic garret maybe,
confined yet comfortable.
The rest of the country’s expansive and open
except parts of the south
where the heat & humidity will smother you in your sleep;
then hide the evidence
in swamps of ancient illusion like southern hospitality,
smiling to your face while sharpening the knife.
Offering another helping
while grandpa finishes the grave.
Ya’ll come back now ya hear.
Give me the hidden heart of New England any day;
chilly and cool outside
but warm as a glowing wood stove.

While memory tends to shade everything
in afternoon’s golden light or midnight blue and gray,
I’d rather hard scrabble times up north
than easy living in a place that says nothing to me
even if this place is home.

I miss Maine so very much,
I taste her like a lover in October air
rich with the season’s smells
of apples, leaves, sea, smoke and pine.

Sweet New England;
where I belong is where my heart is.
And though I wasn’t born there
I’ve walked that land as a pilgrim
singing its songs as my song
until they became my own.
My heart reaches out now
longing to return,
to the place I called home,
until the end of days.
And my bones not left to mildew
in the humid southern heat,
shatter with the frost.

I had another dream
Well, it's sounds less crazy than calling it a memory
I walked through the public park
on a chilly evening
Orange and red leaves were falling
My favorite season.

I sat on the park bench
which greeted me with a little warmth
Probably from the elder woman
who regularly sat on this park bench
to feed the birds
My favorite animal.

I scanned the park
Its horizontal lines matched the color of the leaves
A coated stranger walked by
His face blurred
but a friendly smile I remembered so clearly

I set a leaf on the bench beside me
It had fallen on my head
and kept me from feeling lonely
I never knew why I felt like that some times.

The wind took my fallen friend
which took my eyes to marked wood
I had to squint, I had to smile
"He said stay in my arms for eternity"

I expected two initials encased in a heart
but this was extra touching
I hoped the bench carver stayed
I hoped they were happy
Maybe I'd remember this
Maybe I've already lived it.

A second stranger walked by but stopped
And became familiar
He had the one smile
The one that I've always remembered

We walked arm in arm
out of the public park
I told him of the bench carver's message
He smiled,
"And She said I will"

We strode together in another age, my love,
You, in your earthen gown and beautiful dark tresses.
I, the wearer of the long plaited, thong and sinew sandal.
You and I, we strode through quiet valleys of tall conifer
Where huge rock falls left monolithic edifices... as monuments to past largess.

Together we walked as one, in a world much simpler than the one we live in now.
In a time, without the inhibition of contrivance or sophistication.
We walked in clarity and drank from clear, clean waters.
We dallied in the honeyed light of a huge, summer moon.
A field of dandy lions in the warm April sunshine, was the byre in which we made love and produced our babies.


A love ... un-harried, unhurried and devoid of any preoccupation other than that of the beautiful desire
We felt for each other.

The love we feel now is the same as the love shared then;
But in this age it is diluted and complicated by the urgencies and imperatives of the day.
Then there was just time...given and taken.
Without cost or penalty, without blame or insinuation, without hurt or harm.


Time in that better age...was a friend.  
A friend who augmented the beauty of today into the promise of tomorrow,
A friend who exchanged the serenity of yesterday for the excitement of the new day’s dawn.

This was our time, when the bond of eternity sealed our commitment to each other.

For however many lifetimes we may live in...

We shall be one.

Marshalg
For darling Janet
12 September 2011