Running forward on point, stalwart of
instinctive purpose he stopped at the
end of the orchard, waiting for me
to catch up, turning his head he sniffed
the air, listening, ever alert scanning the
surroundings and trail ahead.

No one assigned him to this task,
it was just in him. It's reassuring to
have a good old dog scout your way,
even if it is only a leisurely walk in
our own orchard.

He has gone on alone now, into the
next life, devotedly blazing our path
ahead. I trust that someday I will see
him there, forever faithfully on point.

The older we grow
the faster life goes,
priorities change
quality of living
and loving takes
precedent, over
self-indulgence
and material things.
Nothing as important
as family and friends.

It is racing now,
these fleeting days
and years, reflected
most in my grandsons
growing too soon from
children to young men.

Along with Steller parents
our little farm provides
a learning ground for the
kids, teaching life lessons
that inspire character and
self-discipline, with Cows
and pigs to show at fairs,
pride earned with accomplishments
and Blue Ribbons to share.

So lucky am I having a ringside
seat, watching yet another family
generation grow and ascend,
Football and basketball
games to attend, Christmas
morns of excited children
clamoring down the stairs,  
many birthday celebrations
with ever more candles aglow.
Memories all, retained and shared.

Perhaps the best part is,
these grandsons of mine,
still are up for hugs and
good night kisses, genuine
affection received and given.

Families are a true blessing
and a privilege, the only
real reason we are here.

All these things, remain the
sweet frosting on my aging
Grandfather's cake of life.
I sometimes wonder where
I would be without all these,  
my reasons for being?

A morning orchard walk,
myself, two dogs and
two following barn cats.
Repeated often, a shared
companionable reverie
of mutual tranquility.
An odd family of sorts,
devotion comes is many forms.

Under bright light, there they are again, close
up upon my desktop, two stark reminders
of my long ago-departed grandfather's hands,
that now I have reluctantly inherited. Stiff and
painful just as his must have been while nearing
his own inevitable end.

Hard used-weathered and bony, liver spotted
with nearly transparent skin, vains clearly
visible, wrinkled derma like aged yellowing
parchment paper. Fingers having grown
untrustworthy of dexterity and strength, not
my hands I recall from even ten years ago.

I loved my Granddads hands, they fit
his other features; gentle, comforting and
reassuring. I knew them and him no other way.

Now my hands and face viewed up close are
becoming bitter daily reminders of my own
precious and fleeting time.

Become a (wo)man of peace
help the world, be content,
it isn’t up to governments.

Celebrate your free heart
in grateful virtue and
with modest speech.

Soothe the ever angry,
invite them in and dare trust;
be proud equals not at odds.

With new friends welcome,
double joys by sharing,
save the planet by being happy

Your investment in Kindness
rendered to others' is a gift
shared, that costs you nothing,
yet pays huge return dividends.

Long sunless winters seem
to bring out the emotional
darkness in us, as we hide
hunkered down in our dens
of personal regret and loss
this enveloping gloom guides
our thoughts, moods and pens.

Not unlike rabbits, or other
animals of the earth we await
the light and warmth of spring
with its possibility of new beginnings.