Waking to the melodies of a chorus of birds. Visioning the  leafs on the trees dancing merely to the beat.
  April showers falling from the heavens above,   touching the unearthed seedlings preparing for their bloom.
Springtime is almost here.
May arriving bringing the sunshine to dry the moistened ground, as each seeding awakes by the morning dew, their limbs stretching through the soil , like a baby chick pecking the shell, they are brought to life.
There is so much beauty a city never sees, like the enchanted flies of the southern country with glowing fairy-like wings. Let's not forget the whipperwill singing in the old oak trees or the katiedids that hide in their shell. The crickets joining as their legs play violin as the bull frogs play base with there deep vocal sounds, if you sit quietly you may likely hear, the howling of  a pack of coyotes so far from you but sound so near.
Springtime in the south is heaven on Earth , no hustle or bustle or lights from the cities to interfere.
I can't imagine springtime anywhere but here.

Glasses;
so big!
With curves and crevices,
and area so majestic
like a continent never explored.

Glasses;
so revolutionary!
With voice and passion,
and struggles so deep
like a country in depression.

Glasses;
so new!
With a new page arriving,
and vision to again be clear
like a scope through the old horror.

So there.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMVI)


Yes, fire.  We plunked down on the fur rug thence
Afore her fireplace, and I in betrayl
Neglected to erm, lose me on its hale
And licking flames, e'en that romance' pretense
Was blind to--wherefore? Sandwiched for intents
Twixt two guy friends, I was too dull t'avail
Me even there, yea lost myself in pale
'Scuse in auld lines to Nigel, like's good sense.
Now Sunday watches diesel trucks roar fer
Sweet hours through lonesome country roads 'neath blue
Skies nary cloud is but a ghost in, poor
As saying.  I told a friend I'm as a melon you
Cleaned out, sans Mum, and what as twere
Is left?  LORD, give me Thy fruit.  And kids too?

11Mar18b

I do not draw you.
But my memory of you.
A time in my life,
the moment lost.
With only a memory left behind
that withers everyday.
I do not draw you
to preserves you,
who lives well off
in a warm home
in a cold country.
But I draw you
who lit my mind,
and froze my heart in an eternal hope
The only you I could ever love,
yet never love.
The one who burns my life
one day a time.
The one who I must forget.

There's a town north of the Jacket's place.
In the heart of central western PA.
Where the horses run free.
And there ain't a trace of the big city.

Some people say they're old-fashioned.
The ones living in that nation.
But who calls that home won't complain.
They're happy in Colt's country.

(chorus)
Barbecued ribs best in the county made by aunt Don.
Falling in love with Mr. Lee's son Ron.
Watching the big play with the gang.
{hoping that the boys win the game}

Staying forever young.
Believing in the word of God.
Never changing who we are for anything.
This is how we were raised.
Oh we might not have a million days.
But with what we have left.
We'll spend it in Colt's country.
_______

Picnic on Sunday down at Danielle's farm.
Kyle and Matthew show up showing their big arms.
They're leading the team to another victory season.
And when you ask them about it they thank god and one more reason.

That they've been brought up in this nation.
Of the white and blue.
Staying true to Colt's nation.

(chorus)
Touchdown thrown by number 43 Tom.
Watching my hero wide receiver Ron.
Hoping our season goes out with a big bang.
{the boys winning the championship game}

Staying forever young.
Believing in the faith passed along.
Never changing who we are for anything.
This is how we were raised.
Oh we might not have a million days.
But with what we have left.
We'll spend it in Colt's country.
_______

Now I've been gone for so long.
Years have passed and the memories still living on.
I won't forget sitting in the bleachers.
Cheering on them men, who made the halls of my high school.

Now Tom went on to the military.
It was his dream even if it meant risking his life.
Kyle started teaching at the local school.
And Matthew now plays in the pro bowl.

As for Ron, well he went to Penn State.
Never played again, gave it all up for me.

(chorus)
The chills you get where you hear the school's song.
Still in love with Mr. Lee's son Ron.
Walking in the funeral procession with the gang.
{hoping that Tom knows we'll always remember his name}

Staying forever young.
Believing in this town.
Never changing who we are for anything.
This is how we were raised.
Oh we might not have a million days.
But with what we have left.
We'll spend it remembering.
And making memories in Colt's country.
________

They've sold us ******* at a reduced price,
it was so cheap and hard not to buy.
Like a scrappy burger from a fastfood shop,
cheapest burger in town, you just can't say no.

They've sold us ******* about democracy,
bright future, freedom and prosperity.
About the new chapter in our poor lives.
They've sold us 'good news' - the big pile of lies.

They said "Just wait and you will see
what a great country we all live in".
When the voting time came, they beg "Vote for us!",
then they turned Parliament into a comedy club.

Now we are standing on the bus station
waiting for a bus, which is on diversion.
They apologise for the inconvenience,
promising that it will come, it's just been delayed.

But the bus is not coming, we keep freezing on,
knowing too well by now, that it'll never come.
"Can you, by any chance, get a replacement bus?!"
They can't, 'cause nobody longer cares about us.

They've sold us ******* at a reduced price,
it was so cheap and hard not to buy.
Like a scrappy burger from a fastfood shop,
cheapest burger in town, you just can't say no.

Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility

to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity

on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,

induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth

much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging

to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,

research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency

participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep

and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can

destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction

ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.