Greenwood sacraments awash in mysterious but welcome subterfuge , fooling the melancholy morning , giving way to afternoon peace and euphoria by afternoon ...

Don't let your guard down !
Hell ain't half full yet !

Eating a bowl of Cap'n Crunch in the morning was comparable to dining with the  'Captain of the ship' on Saturday when my Dad was home , swearing , working the crew , barking commands , guiding his first and second mates into adulthood ! One of the great navigators of my time ........

Under the waxing moon
Where safety is secured in -
the throes of madness
Where ambiguous , vocal figurines annotate abject sadness* ...


* Reversus de pit ignis Ad .. .. Amen: alleluja habitabo in medio populi mei misericors deus in misericordia* ..

Wind racked homemade kites -
seek the Light of God in the Rites of March
In the dancing shadow of bulging Live oak trees
Farm boys preening blue jeans smattered with -
cocklebur and hitchhiker , wild onion & skunk greens
Balsa wood gliders know not where they-
come to lie nor the first mayfly with the conclusion of its time to wither and die...
Just like old vanes that succumb to vernal breath no matter-
how hard they may try..
This's the cold , calculated , precision of morning -
searching for her last night ...
Old men garnished in wisp of gray , like spanish -
moss clinging to hardwoods
Plundered on the high seas ,
a badgered admiral's arms flail in sight-
of the lighthouse , his cry muted by the otherworldly-
breeze ..

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

Grayish-white cloud banks are touching the ocean
in wind driven devotion
White capped angels do soar above
the morning , turquoise confusion
The dilution of nighttime sins in salted solution ,
white sand epitaphs are being pulled into hellish black horizons

We notice our reflections on -
'Looking Glass waters'
November zephyrs send duck feathers -
like sailboats across the pond , nervous Geese
hurry along , ten curious Mallards greet us at the shore
A tickled Crow burst into laughter , a stern Jay
follows soon after
Sugar white clouds with blue and pink wisp
A moment in time with laughter from our lips
Skipping stones , snuggled in winter coats
Zestfully sharing , exploring , unencumbered emotion                                                          ­                     Continually falling in love* ...

Mother Earth I pray to thee , as if all the gifts of flora and fauna were made just for me ...
Gracious for the grassy cover beneath tired feet ..
Thankful for every rush of air I'm allowed to breathe ...
Blessed is every miraculous ray of life giving Sun upon my body ..
Enchanted by every butterfly in the field , every songbird melody ..
Eddies of cool tranquil waters , mountain valleys , aromatic , abundant
Spring flowers ...
Summertime berries , every phase of the Moon above , the first snow of Winter ..
Fields of clover , the raptors above and the blue skies they circle ..
The apples of Fall , strawberries of June and the fireflies of warm weather ..
January frost , the winds of March and the Whitetails of September ..

Charcoal sylvan settings drawn with quills of silver-
and blue as crickets play hypnotic , bucolic evening tunes
The call of nightfall dove beside the very miracle of everlasting love* ...

About a half handful o' chaw to start the workday-
will give your mind a little tingle
Make the morning brighter and keep your-
vocal cords on idle ...

At the old downtown Theater a curious group of performers appear after closing time , a little after sundown !
The pipes of the grand pipe ***** make the stage their own ...Large ones , tiny ones and gadgets the likes you've never ever known !
Instruments of various heights , shapes and sizes ! Teeny weeny flutes and big oboes answer and call ! Vox humanas sing like the choirs above , Rooga horns from old cars sound off , little blue birds twinkle lovely alms ! Wood Flutes tower sixteen feet high ! Brass trumpets heard from miles around , contra bassoons big enough to blow a man down !
The clap of wooden horses crossing covered bridges , antique telephones and drumhead switches !
Lovely diapasons lead the show , big burly Reeds make the stage their own !!
The mops , buckets , brooms and dust pans dance as the entourage bellows , the music grows louder as the pipers come together !
As all the pipes blow a beautiful song , debonair Sir Console graciously invites you all to sing along !

Elder blue eyes drip swift , sweet rainwater from piedmont skies  , collecting o'er sugar laden grasses , pooling among century hardwoods and bleeding , red clay gullies  
Blacktop lanes steam with the coming nightfall while Mourning Dove cry with her passing* .....

Honeysuckle carrier churning the spring-                                              
river caladium
Easterly shear delight beyond Dresden blue visage
Windy dream mermaid sea , Brown Pelican motion
Harper Chickadees stirring Pineapple sage-
banks of thought
Tempered , smitten , physical piedmont devotion
Pisciform schooners roaming wits damask ocean

A lone , Water Oak wonder in golden armor
Sentry of the night , of uncertain shadow
The guardian of the gate , donned in-
bucolic regal linens
Living Testament to the power of Earth ,
securing the wildwood sacraments
Platform of the evening songster , transitional buoy of red morning starlight ..

A tiny brick farmhouse , on a winding dirt road . Brake lights . Geese announce a visitor ! Frozen grass crunching beneath the postman's boots ..Advertisement , gas bill plus a precious postcard ! Weathered hands turn aged , yellowed pages to file another memento . Class pictures and cut flowers pressed between gilded sheets bring warm memories .

Static jade , silver portals masking sinuous , tarry leviathans
The wealth of Heaven released o'er twinkling avenues , the audacity of crows that gather in Spring rain
A lonely , bold Iris , the smatter of color along the edgewood , chatter of grounded Bluebirds , crescendo of April cloudburst ,
assurance of evening rainbows at the 'Lamp of God's veritable direction

Red tip shrubs are reflecting intermittent sunshine across puddles of water in the yard , pine cones , straw covers the ground beneath the trees . Steam coming off the road , cars crashing into standing water , garden soaked , eggplant laying sideways...Fall garden looks invigorated , rain barrel overflowing , wheel barrow completely full of water , dead grass from previous grass cuttings have collected at the end of the driveway from water rushing down earlier today .Birds are leaving their cover to forage , dark clouds once again coming from the East ...The rumble of a train coming through Palmetto , big trucks on South Fulton Parkway and the occasional jet coming into Hartsfield .....

Spending good money on theater tickets for a fright when the six o'clock news plays for free each night ? Pay top dollar for " Spring water " bottled in plastic choking the oceans ? Sugar free sodas are nothing more than a cumulative poison just like all the others ! Marijuana is taboo , but fast food is cool ? Twenty years for selling it ! Perfectly fine to feed your kids rat poison with a toy stuck in it ! Pay no attention to a refreshing drink that cleans the terminals on car batteries ? Processed flour with roach droppings in it ? Antibiotics , genetically modified produce , earthquakes in Oklahoma from fracking ! Leveling trees in metro Atlanta to build substandard housing !

A fountain of afternoon life flourishing in the shadow of Summer evergreens ,  can Spider webbing capture a dream
Are fireflies perceptible from the Crescent Moon
Do Mourning Doves repetitively sing the same sad tune
Is love whispered in the wind , a wounded heart
on the mend
Will the Raven portend tomorrow , are our days merely
borrowed , should the world ever return to peace
Will my poetry ever quench my minds thirsted need* ...

Hot black tea you've great power to soothe me , making the day amusing
Nursing a cup with both hands , entertaining great plans
Closing the door on the disagreeable , making life quite simple* ...

Autumn views change much like the observers
A little worse , a bit better , in some ways a little sooner than later
Soft skinned , running to a fro now replaced with hard shelled , set in your ways , pre-planned afternoon walks  
Elder hardwoods finally reveal their true colors , passing the torch down to their green , full o' fire young-ins , drawing from their scabbard , fencing for all their worth , forever pushing forward while old folks like us can finally relax and learn to enjoy the forest* ...

Dappled in freed sunshine
Monday's forested , stain glassed -
visage of hope and resurrection
Of stippled , newfound colors reading
the diary of lovers , Water Oaks bathed
in moist , diamond hue gloss
Clover , Thistle and Daisy trip in Northern breath
Autumn , Coweta river valley blues ,
Whispered , misty Chattahoochee afternoon views* ....

A bantam sounds afternoon tidings as the iron weathervane points Northeast ..
Both silhouettes as endearing a sight as my eyes could
ever witness ...
Astral nights , my amour ..Colorful light illustrations brushstroke the East ,
The edge of the Milky Way perplexes , I bask in it's subtle persuasion ..
Wind battled score and five year Pines sound timorous refrains , offering great euphonic consolation* ..

Baby's breath whispers beneath quiet Willows , morning sun
approaches its bold , westward salutation , inaudibly removing the nighttime cold ...
My cumbersome foolhardy days along the perceivable , well worn footpath of a venerable life scholar ..
Silent , amusing thoughts of intrepid youthful days , life's bitter traffic
upon the minds electric foray into disillusion , avenues of terrific familiarity and knowledge ...

Writing my diary in the church
of the forest
In deep cover , incommunicado ,
unnoticed , a heretic of mans oppressive
religions , a worshipper of bird and tree
A prayer for each grain of sand along
the field road
Receiving tranquility then releasing my burden
into windsongs* ...

Lakes can blow your
mind , they can take your breath ,
help to pass away the time on a
higher plane , even curtail a few aches and pains
They whisper your name ,
they've no regard for routine matters nor boorish games
They entertain the child within ,
sailboats at mercy of ocean wind ,
Jolly Roger flags , blue whales ,
shark fins and full sails
Boats filled with the evening catch ,
rowing to shore in a stormy patch ,
telescopes and 'Crow's Nest' , red buoys
and sailing men
A day at the lake
A line in the water
Your **** in a chaise
Your thoughts left free to wander* ...

I drew a heavy hit of fruity sweetness
trapped in a familiar spicy bouquet
Trolled guitar strings in search of
something ear worthy
Marveled at the outdoors with
full knowledge of my place within her
taut boundaries
Drew another hit for old friends
Then another for no reason at all

The country could use a Brownie or a Cub Scout for President ..
Someone possessing imagination and good manners with an ardent desire
for true public service ! May we find such a person ..

Carolynn draws a picnic scene on a frosted window
Spring kites untethered and sailing , the hope of winter rainbows
Of curled leaves navigating blue lakes
Of afternoon snowflakes , the call of mandrakes
The mystical smoke of garden bonfires weighing heavy
o'er broomsage meadows
Of whippoorwills that announce the coming of night , the birth of new stars in sparkling January sky* ..

Pawpaw would rock by the fireplace in his favorite rocker ! The occasional whiff of Oak firewood and Borkum Riff pipe tobacco , I was hanging on to every word ! A narrative about a little boy in 1925 . Standing by his chair , as proud as I could be ! He'd look straight into your eyes without even flinching , the smell of Old Spice aftershave and Kentucky Bourbon . A shot glass with a gold rim ..A pocket watch his Father passed on to him ..Stories of a little fella from the south side of Atlanta relayed to a captive audience of one ! A starstruck grandson with a cup of hot chocolate , cap pistol , belt , holster , pajamas and house shoes ! Astonished with tales of Buffalo Bill ! Sergeant York and Wild Bill Hickok* !

Lamenting the day
Considering the night
Obeying powerful invisibility
Love plus music mingled with electricity* ...

Through hazy , seasoned myopic eyes all the sights and sounds of woodland creatures do enchant and amaze !  Robins relay the message of my presence , White tailed deer barely render a nod and continue to graze ..
Fall Georgia skies painted by the renaissance artist , chilled zoysia and fescue cools the feet of the timid , skeptical albeit grateful introvert ..
Dirt roads pretend to run forever this morning , playful Sun hides like the gifted actress , behind gray blankets ! Resolute .. Cunning ..
White Pines bear witness to the active forest , Eastern gray squirrels signal impatiently , awaiting the call of Winter ..
Random thoughts collect like silver rainwater pools , virtual bastions of aquatic life that dot the landscape , olive brush strokes , red Maple swirls , prolific Water Oaks recall young boys in search of newts , mud puppies and tadpoles ..
Songbirds hide within briar thickets performing their daily song list for all that would give ear , rock bass and bream gorge on a bounty of white flies served by the morning breeze .. The pond is a looking glass today , sharing her piece of colorful sky for childlike imaginations such as mine , tiny frogs providing musical accompaniment with glorious song while Angelic host incessantly highlight her surface with gentle blue and green hues , soft tones ..

Sticky , cedar sap , candy cane little red hands
Toddlers leaving cookie crumb trails
Warm cider and holiday bells
Hickory embers with Christmas tales
Tinsel , gluhwein , spiced apples and caramel
All is well this evening as tree decorations are bright ,
reflecting across the family room ceiling tonight
Convocations of enhanced spirituality and reason , all is well this winter season* ...

Will the 'Ghost of Melancholia' continue to ploy
and annoy , will my dossier lie unopened like
a windless sail upon a lifeless ocean* ..

Granite and marble talismans , sugar white sandbars and felled Oak
bridges .. Smallmouth bass explode with hunger at the surface , soft shelled turtles in meditative bliss , fill driftwood and sun drenched rock islands , dancing waters and bank head flora lend a thousand different colors to the afternoon palette of a Kelleytown Summer ...
Water striders communicate with dance to the ballad of a bold Bluejay .. Young anglers test their skills with creek minnows in search of Yellow Perch and Black Crappie as the last hour of daylight swiftly begins to pass ..

A silver pail of crickets turned over in the boat , the prisoners ran for cover to take a vote ... The Aye's would return to the bucket to risk their fate , "Our captors appear ready to leave the lake anyway !" The Nay's would seek limited freedom and shelter somewhere on the boat , beneath a paddle , a raft or in a tackle box , subject to be harpooned and cast into the drink at any moment ! Three young crickets said "To hell with such tomfoolery ! We're off the boat this very second , we'll swim for our very lives across the waters treacherous surface ! Two out of three lived to tell the tale , to witness all the Aye's and Nay's cast off into the watery abyss , the price for giving up one's independence , the very fruits of resigning oneself to be falsely governed , to lay in chains or hide in shame is no life at all for fisherman nor bug !

My appreciation for morning sunshine is serving me well as of yesterday , all things beautiful have removed a cumbersome shell I've burdened for many decades ..
The sailor without the sea to embrace .. Without a passion to define his legacy , a sad tribute indeed ..
A lover with no mate to share the everyday .. A cold breath of air in hopeless abandon , seeking salvation , longing to mingle with the warm tropical breeze ..
Explain vision to the satisfaction of a blind audience before interpreting my dreams , read my thoughts before explaining my minds disease ...
Wear these boots through the night with sworn enemies to each side , walk naked and ashamed , abandoned without the solace of a friend ..
I have delayed the inevitable last chapter of my being ,  formerly cursing and renouncing the gifts of creation to no end , swallowed as Jonah without hope of ever returning again ..
Return to the trees at the end of the loneliest road , lie beneath the base of a hardwood , close your worried eyes , take in every sound , become one with each living entity throughout ..
Retool your vision from sky to ground , control each thought from this day forward and chart clear paths beside your brothers .. Godspeed ..

Heavenly host fill Hill Country skies on this night ,
delivering miracles , providing comfort to the oppressed ,
showering a confused , stress laden Earth with hope and
the promise of rest .. Sweet rest .. May Angels swaddle ,
protect and free you of your worldly burden this night ,
committing thy mind to rest , sweet rest .... Good night ..

White catalpa blooms caressed -
my soul
A morning jaunt through cool , knee high 'wiregrass'  -                         bound for Camp Creeks wisteria hollow
A cardinal was a long lost friend
A bluebird mourned of withered love
A mockingbird fervent in the hope -
of tomorrow

A perfect time to be together
To gather and imbibe honeysuckle nectar
Walking the woodland edge in the
company of kindred spirits
Whitetail's keenly observe every action
from young pine thickets
North winds crackle dry brush , bronze
fieldrows rush through my every vessel
Dove gather along the power lines as
piedmont sun begins to settle
Tall shadows with bobwhites imploring the rise
of the moon along the terra cotta horizon

Life began well nourished after breaking the fertile ground
Patriots shouldered their rifles in crisp salutation
Soldiers joyously gathered around , Marching bands played-
musical testimonials , the sound carried throughout-
every town
The Apple Tree was Liberty
She grew strong an bore the fruit of Freedom
The citizens selfishly gorged on every bountiful harvest
Day upon day , Year after year till one day when-
the spoils of government could not be reached ...
Her bounty died on the vine , rotted then fell to the earth
In a fit of megalomania, bureaucratic fertilizer exalted her to reach the Heavens but she was so denied ..
Aloof and deaf to the clamor and pain of her citizens
In her dying day she lay felled by the keepers sworn to-                  
her defense , now a page in history on the wrongs of nationalistic -government , the "Star of the Grove" with all her promise and good intent came and went with a painful end ...

People move on sometimes and it feels so bad, it hurts even worse at sunset as darkness settles in , be cognizant of the moonlight , keeping your eyes wide open all the time for someone in your life has wishfully and secretly placed a candle in their window , praying for you to find it ..

Do you recall rollicking through cultivated country lanes ?
Playfully tromping down our gravel drive in the afternoon heat ?
I held you to prevent a stone bruise on your tiny little feet ..
Can you recall late Summer evenings on the front porch swing ?
I read you nursery rhymes until you fell to sleep ..
Do you remember tents in the living room , Captain Crunch cartoon
mornings dragging a gallon of milk to the TV ?
Playing hide and seek in the house , jigsaw puzzles and parakeets ?
Remember the puppies and kittens , lavender mittens and the Blizzard of '93 ?
What about climbing up Stone Mountain nestled in your papoose , just you and me !!

'Twould do any young person well to step into the muddy boots of a farmer for a spell . *** a field the whole day through , milk an ornery goat , pick a row of okra or two ..
Clean a hog pen , run the dogs at the crack of Dawn , build baskets and set tomato plants in the hot Georgia Sun ..
Pick your meal in the morning and eat it at dinner , cut firewood in the dead of Winter . It would most assuredly do a teenager well , yes it would

Let love calibrate change
May understanding rule the day , providing sanctuary for the
downtrodden , insuring that nary one traveller thirsting for righteousness should lose their way* ..

O Columbia , forever in the chrysalis -
of battle , stoking the furnaces of tyranny
with rivers of fire fed from the backs of disenfranchised
labor , her abundant wealth smithed into golden sabers ..
Diamond boulevards , dancing waters ,  pristine
countryside
Poverty , malnutrition , political deflection , genocide

O Wanton Republic  , deceiver of her citizens
Ringing the bell of war to distract her minions
Forgetting the health of her own children in-
pursuit of clandestine missions
Filling the coffers of American Royalty with -
blind ambition* ...

Formal education is like eating soup with a fork ...
You might get a taste but you'll never be nourished ...

Ice cold rain that raises the hair on the back of your neck ! Gusty winds scatter slick brown leaves across the walkway , driveway and blacktop ! Red , puffy morning eyes , running late , a tiny clear patch in the windshield to view the highway ! Hands ten two on the steering wheel , basically driving from memory a half hour before sunrise ! Stop for gas and coffee with a cinnamon roll , off again with the morning news on the radio ! Find your parking space , making a beeline to the office , boss looks your way then glances at his watch ! Hit the lights , start the computer , raise the curtains ! Lay your bag of bones in a chair and pray for a quick eight hours !

If I could become vapor an -
steal away through the chimney
The crows and the hawks would -
seethe in envy
I'm circling the skyscrapers of Atlanta
Making a beeline to Alabama
Exploring the Chattahoochee river from -
high above
Racing the warm wind , the falcon and the turtle doves* ...