A traitor cloaked in the cloth
of family is a monster indeed

Clip clop go rain drops from rooftops
Splashing into clear pools in a
foggy window backdrop
Willow parasols drip drop -
Monday morning rain
Draw a smiling Sun on a window pane* .

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* ...

Placid , silver waters duplicate
your lovely face , the pelicans at the shore
are as brown as your eyes , breakers in the warmth of May
Dawn reminds me of shooting stars ,
our bodies entwined , bathed in the
light of the moon , wildflower collections
in the month of June , your hair reminiscent
of a September songbird tune , your pretty face now
becomes the cool of Autumn , dandelions along the
river bottom , fields of cotton beside familiar roads ,
pink azaleas glowing along my journey home

Who made the hawk so sad
in winter sky , etching it's loneliness
to my wandering eye ,
Noble upon the tallest elm
Steeped in curiosity , crying tales
of Cherokee , of Muscogee , of hunter
and warring party*

*What hand did color the Georgia dusk ,
with lavender blue oils and orange sunshine
traipsing centurion forest
With waterbirds following the lantern of
God home , through arable pastures , o'er granite domes

Revolution now absconded , buried in lies
Period heroes covered in bird **** , cold green copper effigies
D.C. wannabes , robots packin' protected heat , militarized police working the crime scenes , when agents of change patrol the pink
dogwood streets , martial law is thawing in their sink
A bottle of gin to cure the alcoholic
Sun setting pyre for the agnostics
Who's above little me
Who in the **** believes they're commanding
me

Aristotle would've played a mean guitar , he'd pack 'em
inside Madison Square Garden for sure
Dropped down on one knee wailing a solo
Lyrics filled with forethought an innuendo , on a world tour with his
bass player Plato , the Beatles and Pink Floyd would've been
the opening act for this rock and roll dynamo*...

The smiling moon bobs in an out
of the crackling moonlit trees
Crickets chirping reveille
Farm boys awake to work the crops while
city boys roll over from too many porch shots
Moms kitchen filled with the scent of bacon
and eggs , sawmill gravy , grits and biscuits
Roosters announcing the dawn , howling hounds , idling tractors ,
The clang of hand tools , inquisitive geese chatter on the run , braying mules ,
Whoever said it was quiet on the farm was a **** fool

Hoping to be understood is
weakness revealed
To be revealed is to be understood
The understander has knowledge , the revealer is helplessly known
Knowledge is power
Great power over those that foolishly wish to be understood

First time love and homemade ice cream
will surely melt before your very eyes
A true friend is tantamount to a
falling star in daylight
Fair weather confidants are like Summer whitetails , returning
to the field till your last pea is gone
A real comrade will carry your indiscretions for
the price of a song* ...

Hearts in camouflage , her lover in disguise as a birch at the lakeside , as a piedmont blue morning vision picturing two monogamous songbirds of a loving feather , holding on forever , in warm Springtide weather
At sunnyside , crossing fields of April lavender and May green* ...

Millie's pondering Georgia's
next earthquake , a tsunami
over Sapelo Island , volcanic
activity around Stone Mountain
Her mind is quite medicated yet
the clockwork control freak is firing on all
cylinders , she's got blue , pink and beige pills
to control "the jitters"
A week full of rage to spill in a two hour period ,
anxiety drunk , her two o'clock tea , her momma's
favorite scissors , cutting photographs for a
collage late at night , hanging her wet resume on a tree branch
to dry
Poor , poor Millicent , not a friend in sight* ...

The ground is blushing with pink
wildflowers , the canopy is filling
with new songbirds by the hour
Spring air tickles my baited ear
Days of pure sunlight are drawing near* ...

The old and the diseased have fallen
They're moving forward , on a carpet of needles
I lay among seedlings and sage grass ,
among the dead , among winter hay
In the throes of death , at the windy command ,
broken and bereft along the malignant forest I lay
Commanded by time do I lay
Bound for new birth woodland to lie in wait ,
Content , I will lay**–– ...

One drop of blood from the occasional briar ,
A sprinkle of late morning dew mingled with foraging sweat , a touch of sunburn mixed with one hundred percent desire for a summer treat that's heaven sent* ...

Who proctored the marriage
of water and shore , filled
the morn with songbirds of
every color , placed top water dancers , filled the murky depths with
magic and romance , aligned the trees
along her shining banks just so ,
adjusted her loving tributaries , calculated
their timely flow , created crawfish , shell ******* ,
rock bass and channel cat ,
pink and blue flowers , otter and muskrat
Who drew men into blue eyes , focused their
gaze into March sky , placed their naked feet
in her cool dominion , created a love never ending* ...

Thoughts and rain wile
away the night
Lightning blue shrouds
a lonely eastern March sky
Guitars and tea , bugs collecting
on a porch light , a whippoorwill
sighs , an barn owl begins to cry , the
brown bats have now come alive ,
the hummers will return , the garden
will soon need seeding , green grass
and sunshine will once again meet ,
children will return to the street ,
for the March winter is fleeting* ...

There will always be a storm to reckon with
Beware of things marked new and improved
Wear earplugs at work and work like a mule , friends are like buying a bag of potato chips , they're normally only half full
Sometimes being alone is perfectly right
Stars change their positions during the night so
pray for the path by the light , defend your house with
all your might , remember love is a lone star shining bright
Avoid cliques , their like swimming with a bag of bricks
Leave church at church and work at work
Build a fence and build it right , keeps men honest in the dead
of night* ...

We're beautiful fools
For the true religion is love prophesied
by countless messengers* ...

Night of copious moonlight ,
of star shine , of clapping
pines , of Perseus shooting
arrows over Alabama , of a thousand
jet planes approaching Atlanta
Silver highways and moonlit tracks ,
big cities and rural shacks , cattle ponds
and flickering streams , front porches
with checkerboards , maple rockers and
jiggers of good Jim Beam* ....

Koo soo whew , koo soo whew ,
trawrr weet trawrr weet
Piddy shew piddy shew
Treat treat **** --throo heet throo heet
Pwoo troo pwoo troo reet
pwoo troo pwii troo reet
Trigger trigger trigger neat ,
trigger trigger trigger neat
Whipp poor will  whip poor will
Wheww wha wheww , wheww wha wheww* ...

Thank you Tyler for your endless work
Despite your lot on this cruel earth
For a smile and your attention to detail
For a quest to please your customers without
fail* ...

I lean on hot British tea in the early to mid morning
My staple drink of the quiet afternoon
Anytime during the day when things aren't quite right
Always sipping a cup or two late at night* ...

Brick red walls and black rotting roofs , a slothful purpose in every new move
Gutted, paint peeled shacks , revolving attic vents , remembering smoke filled
chimney stacks
Sea oat dancers performing , tin buildings glowing , the aged are growing bold in March sun , long live these abandoned monuments , pray for former champions* ...

Competing sounds turn
to white noise
Headlights sail down the Mill Road
An airplane off to Chicago
Southern railcars whine in route to
New Orleans
Big trucks on the four way , cars on the blacktop ,
firetrucks on the valley road , pickups on the highland ,
concrete thoroughfares , northsiders pay their tolls , commuter
rails scream from above
Jetliners mingle with the stars , a church for every bar ,
a lightning bug for every jar , a ne'er -do -well for every cop
car , white lightning for granny's "fruit jars"
The view of the Milky Way , the beginning of another day ,
deceased wildlife on the motorway , a new dog having his
day
John Deere's turning fields , poor folks making payments on
their light bill , newspeople in the know , laying hens all in a row
White noise divided specifically , chained pits growling maliciously , townsfolk stocking outdoor shelves , government
gorging on mans wealth* ...

Refreshed beneath a rattling fan
The same white house from my
favorite window , the same old trees , the same old window reflecting the same old me
An east wind tells of someones supper a half mile away , red tips
and brown sugar fescue hypnotically sway , the same old trails on another slow moving Sunday* ..

Excuse me St. Peter , can I get in ******
Is there a head shop with a storefront of gold
Can I lay beside living waters with a
fat doobie
Does Michael have a stash of hash he
might allow me to trash
If I could bring a blueberry blunt then
brother I'm in like Flynt
A field of Acapulco gold , truly heaven sent*...

Let the outdoors filter your past
Inquire of the sun to spark your tomorrows

Red ships sailed for the
Harvest moon , demons led
council in red coals , in wavering
cold air , for a moment burnt pine shared the sun ,
crackling songs were slowly sung ,
evening zephyrs corralled white smoke in a tornadic stranglehold atop nights wooden pyre* ...

Such a remarkable day
Throw a stone into a pond
and watch it slip away
Put a finger on the sun then
highlight the world
Take in a performance of
backyard , native birds
Read a poem 'neath the firs
Yellow bells , daffodils , nature stills
The swell of cascading streams ,
misty dales , the lambs of Spring , the nightingales ,
the whippoorwills , buck dwellings , new growth
stands , broomsage pastured farm lands
Tis a remarkable day
Catch a sailing leaf
Let it carry you away* ...

Barren trees in early springtide mourning
Their occupants announce the ******
morning , tall shadows portend the
rise of golden sunshine with cedars in
aromatic armor , bluebirds crisscrossing
spirited valleys , crows yearning before
stained glass painted epiphanies
Blessed be the concerts of the new day* ..

I was gamesmanship incarnate ,
a shrimper off the Savannah shore ,
a cannoneer in the fury of maritime battle ,
a flautist calling troops to formation ,
Atop the highest ferris wheel ,
imbibing cool waters from the Big Dipper ,
scaling the Horseshoe Nebula ,
leading a fire wagon into the inferno ,
submarining the darkened abyss
Under the cover of shellfire , outflanking
a Napoleonic commander
Belaying the tallest mountainside
with cool , calculated reserve* ..

Oyster white knights of the avenues
Of cloud laden repositories filled with
silver'd showers , of blown flowers begging for
green lush ground
Bicycles , pedestrians , stiff March breezes
Front porch neighbors , paper boy deliveries
Purple , pink and red skyways of dusk
Robins returning from the south , smoke returning
from neighborhood hearths , gas lighting o'er
manicured lawns
The first born star to call my own
To follow home* ...

Spinning for bluegills
on a placid lake
As much amusement as my heart can take
Panning for gills in the windslow'd
wakes
Catching a thrill on a perfectly blue Spring day

Madrigals of March
echo throughout the Port lake backcountry
with river dancer vibrations , lapping waters ,
sashaying marsh grass along her fertile shore
Uplands of live oak , elm , birch and sycamore
Shadows of raptors and herons alight brown pasture in
evening performances , evergreen seedlings helicopter
into the unknown , bass note bullfrogs , light breezes
chaperone a gaggle of redwing blackbirds bound for
sweet home* ...

A cageling lurking in darkness , printing
impressions upon cobblestone and
wetted grass
Accused by sunlight
Its forfeiture of anonymity gracing
my brow , fragmenting scrubland in
vivacious color

.

Call me 'the nonchalant' in Springs blue eyes
Her favored son come to partake
of sweet wine and honeycomb , of tenured
pine and hardwood laced in spanish moss ,
of willow ponds long since crossed
Tempered breath about my neck
Anoint these weathered feet in May oil and myrrh
A crown of 'suckle , **** grass between teeth ,
cascading pools beside her creekside beach* ...

Was I your prize possession
A trophy on yer mantle
Or just a mule to be flogged
on occasion , an ornery animal to abuse an mishandle
The beaten do return to the whip
Sorry was a slip of the lip
No one knows where ya lie
No marker with religious overtones
No chronological award emblazoned in -
marble
No holiday flowers
Your a memory drowned in a whiskey sour

Sometimes I'm the flood light drawing flies
Sometimes I'm the shadow fending off the night
Polished , debonair and inquiring
Repugnant , standoffish and dying
Counting the stars on a flag
The panels on a wood floor
One day a publican
One day a mannish *****
I feel like one day the gun will be loaded-
when I decide to test immortality
I long to leave this pile of corrupted flesh
Follow the sun west then disappearing over someone's
picturesque horizon* ..

The Devils popping the bubble wrap
Hail is bouncing off the front door steps
Blustery tree lines wrapped in sheets of lightning
blue , rivers forming at downspouts , thunder
growing louder
Cars come to a crawl
Peace and violence are poised to draw
Suddenly showers stall , a lull ensues
Quiet resumes , the night is rescued
The treefrogs strike a tune , the June bugs swoon
The timid moon looms , the insect musicians balloon
The oboes , the clarinets , the piccolos and the cellos
Sweet voices , the harps , the guitars and the pianos
A whippoorwill calls the orchestra to order ,
the thrushes , mockingbirds , the katydids , the cricket
chorus , the coyotes , the bobcats , the hoot owls and
the sprites
The jays , the cicadas  and the songsters of night
Goodbye Old Man Squall , may the creatures of the eve
now come to call , may the maidens of the forest render
ballads of rest , may the fledglings of the morrow lay
peacefully in their nest* ...

Have you worked a crowder pea field in July
As the Georgia sun fries
When humidity sits you down every half hour ,
where the weather deals great power
Showers are few and far between
Dirt fills every pocket of your blue jeans
Sweat blinds
The day seems to grind
Humor and inspiration are hard to find
Picking peas by moonlight
Mosquitoes feasting by lamplight
Filling bushel baskets by day
If the good Lord be willing , please call the paper wasp away* ..

On the day contact is made we will be
harvested like worms to supply an ever continuous
" galactic fishing trip*" ...

Particles striking one another
Breaching , interacting , consuming ,
releasing
In color , in darkness
Haphazardly , in order
Harboring immortality
Defining microscopic realities
Passing , moving forward
Invisible
Indivisible*...

The immediate world was bathed in raw kinetic energy
A ****** hovered then returned to hardwood cover
Drops of rainwater began striking the parched surface-
as the breath of the storm invigorated every tree
Songbirds imparted the good news at every possibility
Streams were born , commanded the earth then died

Atlanta is 45 miles far too close
The only sound I want is Bear Creek
flowing , morning cattle off to the
highland , topwater bass in the stream lowland
A snorting old buck in the grassland
A Massey Harris turning plowland
The sound of rain tapping on a tin roof
The clicking of a stallions hoofs
Distant thunder on a lazy Hill Country night
The March moon shining bright* ...

With a plug of morning chew I pulled ever closer
into the thick forested narrows
Dawn fishing along a foggy riverbank
Snapping Shoals turned off the think tank ,
made a mans mind draw blanks
Singing waters drew a quick smile ,
I've returned here quite often from many
a mile with rod and reel , with a wounded
soul seeking my creators control
Walking away reborn
With open wounds sewn
My path redrawn* ...

I've never been more at peace than when my bare feet were in
Camp Creek

Today a tree , tomorrow a bluebird
Later becoming an Elm ,
a pelican out to sea
I was once tall grass
Growing tall in the gulf breeze ,
warmed in Georgia sun , my friend
was a Boxelder , we sought the
shelter of navy blue sky windows
I fell in love with a heron sailing from
east to west , my passion was to be the afternoon
moon or a magical Willow at rest
My dad was a cardinal , my mother was the nurturing waters
of Indian creeks , my siblings were the blackberries of
July , grandmother a doe , grandfather a raven
Death is merely a transition
Life is forever* ..

He corrected his children with a belt
But grew good tomatoes , cucumbers
and kale
He turned black earth in February ,
but drank himself into a stupor at night
He marked and strung perfect rows by day then
gambled all the money in his hand by evening
He was fastidious to a fault then shot hisself
in bed* ...