The calendar hasn't changed it's page
In 5 years.
It's hanging on the wall upstairs
Stuck on February 2011
It's too sad to turn the page
Because you were always the one to do it,
Until the day you died
In February 2011.

I am certain that Hill Country Carpenter bees have brewed the antidote for this poets melancholy feelings
'My eyes will drink freely of this potion as needed',
whenever I suffer from a lack of piedmont scenery ..                    
Whirling acrobats , tedious gardeners from Dawn till the close
of day ..
Challenging surprise guest , staring straight into wondering eyes then
off into the aromatic wind , riding the suns ray's with a grin , happily bound for an afternoon of hard labor once again ..
Peeking into my window as if their calling on a friend .

The barren sidewalks of Palmetto ,
yesterdays shoppes in boarded disarray ,
hushed avenues , empty Water Oak parks ..
Creosote treated railroad ties fill Spring air
currents , Friday afternoon capability shattered ..
Windblown , meager paper evidence collects at
curbside , this abandoned village , forever reduced to a four way stop on Sunday nights* ..

At least
On
This I can
Be humble
And say I have
transgressed
And my life
Has

F
U
M
B
L
E
D

I could circle the moon a thousand times 

and never once come across a star 
that shines as bright as you.