MAGGIE AND FLOYD

Maggie and her husband, Floyd, lived in our home in an apartment that originally was the attic. The two of them came into my life when I was in the third grade. But for their coming, especially that of Maggie, I probably would not be here right now able to post this message.

You see, my biological parents--both exceptional human beings--were nonetheless utterly miserably married for 35 years. My mother had wanted a divorce early on, but my father threatened her legally, averring that he would make sure she would never see her three children again if she sought a divorce. Mom acquiesced, spending the rest of her life deeply depressed, watching TV by herself in the living room from 7 pm to 1 am, then reading detective stories until 3 am. My father became rich because he became a workaholic, and because he was extremely smart. They had separate bedrooms.

Maggie became my surrogate mother. She fed me breakfast: poached eggs and grits. She washed my clothes. She gave me a spanking when I needed to be spanked. And she gave me a HUGE hug when I needed love. Maggie, you should know, was black and illiterate, neither of which mattered to me because she loved me and showed it until the day she died when I was in my mid-twenties. Floyd and I debated who was better: Mays or Mantle. Maggie and Floyd are why I abhor racism.

God Bless Maggie and Floyd forever.

Life is a palindrome. When one is born, one
needs a lot of help, can't walk, can't eat by oneself.
As one gets older, one learns new words and accrues
more knowledge. In the middle of one's life, one
can write long messages, perhaps some poems,
even a novel. As each of us grows into old age,
one becomes increasingly childlike again. One
needs more help, has trouble walking, begins
to lose knowledge. One winds up in a nursing
home. Ineluctably, one's existence ends as it had
begun. When one dies, one's life becomes a
palindrome.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Speak to me directly. Put aside your casuistry.
Let truth be your tongue. Politicians dissemble;
friends are candid. There is no room for sophistry
and subterfuge. Blandishments will get you no-
where;  therefore, do not cajole me. Life is too
short for falsehoods. Let it, and all your dealings,
be made of honesty, not lies.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

**** Trump is a googol of lies. a mountain of
misdeeds, a swamp of ******. He has turned
the Oval Office into the Offal Office. He does
not grace his office;  he disgraces it. ****
Trump is an autocrat, a de facto dictator. Worst
of all, he is a racist. Only a child molester
and a murderer are worse.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Music of our souls, your fingers through my hair,
your skin so fair. Kiss me as tenderness flows
through my being, seeing you lying there on
silk sheets. We meet every night, sometimes
late afternoons. Sighs, moans resound through
crepuscular skies, fresh with lust and loving.
Kiss me again, my fingers through your hair,
I smell your sweetness, the fragrance of a
thousand flowers that shower with petals of
heaven's perfume. Melodies of the heart, syn-
copated love songs. Love comes of souls and
hearts.

Copyrighted 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Sunshine is mine. It covers me
in warmth, soothes my spirits, wakes
me up. It signals a new day, a
bright, new day full of promise,
full of hope. I shall elope with my
good fortunes:  no Sisyphean tasks,
no Stygian gloom. Sunshine pours
on me the propitious;  this day will
be full of love and happiness. I
shall sing with the birds. I shall lie in
thick, green grass. I shall dance
with flowers, red and gold. I shall
bathe in a shower of sunshine. Bless
the heavens for this miraculous gift.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

A WINTER’S DAY

I counted all the snowflakes
as they filtered through the sky.
They landed on the bare limbs,
the bushes, the eyelids of busy
rabbits, squirrels gathering
supplies. I walked through banks
of snow that seemed to grow
at least a foot an hour. Our fields
in countryside became blankets
thick and cold and no longer
grew green and yellow grains,
but gathered only snow. I know
that birds took cover in woods
not far away;  they say all
animals are wiser than we
know. We see them not, though
they are there where snowflakes
by the trillions fall through frigid
air.  

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks