before the bullet it bit
before the candle is lit
before the last call
before the curtain falls
before the grave we pray
there is something I must say

before taps is played
before the jazz parade
before 21 guns sound
before the final round
before the fiddler we pay
this I must convey

before the sweet by and by
before the tears we cry
before the bells are rung
before the reaper come
before angels wing
I have to tell you
everything....everything...everything

I walk the land
the forest, the soil, the sand

I see the marks of man
fields, roads, and dams

I wonder how it was before
my father, grandfather and more

With work, sweat and back sore
shaped it to grow crops galore

Generations made this sprawl
wider than a crows call

I lean down and find an arrowhead
and without gall
realize this land isn't ours after all

Get a shovel and the potato ***
Dig some worms, to the pond we'll go

With a rusty can full of crawlers and grubs,
a grasshopper or cricket I'd catch near the scrubs

"That's what that old bass wants" he'd say
and with a cane pole and bucket we're on our way

"Gettin close don't make a sound,
the fish here are timid"
as he put the bucket softly on the ground

"Get a worm and sneak over next to that stump,
yesterday that's were I saw the big one jump"

"Sling it out there easy....and about this deep,
watch that cork and don't make a peep"

"If it bobs then let him nibble a bit,
If it goes under then you've got a hit"

I want to catch a five pound-er, boy I wish!
Pop says you have to have patience to fish

Now, he has two big fish and I had one "almost" keeper
Maybe I need to set the hook a little deeper.

I've tried the worm, the grub, and the grasshopper,
and the cricket was taken by the bass grand pap-pa

I aint caught nothin and it's nearly night
Dad says it cause I'm not holding my mouth right

We pick up the stuff and head up under the big pine,
I've got two fish to clean and they aren't even mine

That's alright with me, because I've learned a great deal
Fishing with Dad is for the soul...not for the meal

I've got a little place
close to my heart
I keep people there
but only their best part

I only take their best things
the bad, just pass on by
I don't always know what I'm taking
and don't always know why

They stay in that place
and I hope they get along
cause they will be there
until I am gone

I think they get blended
into this thing you see
I think they get blended
into this thing called me

Began as a ripple
in the puddle of my youth
created by a breeze
from the piney wood
pushed with adolescent fervor
over the wild and careless rapids
crashing over granite oppression
into content waters
warmed by the soft summer sun
stirred by restless independence
to deep blue awareness
cold yet strong and unafraid
force by faith to traverse the abyss
ebb and flow have no meaning
until I reach the blessed shore

I search for
your face
your hair
your laugh
your gaze
your smile
in memory
and mind
with all
my effort
I cannot find

for like
the angels
we cannot see
your beauty
is greater
than the
sum__
of my imagination

I went to the life store,
one I've never been before
I wanted a new life
new house, new job, new wife
the Keeper pointed...aisle three
there they were; price...free
they were countless; but no label
I asked the Keeper; how am I able...
He stopped me and said, "here's the deal,
you have to pick....pick by feel"
so I took one up
and held it tight
Oh! the is the one
it's full of love, hope, joy and light
I'll take it, can I open it to see?
The Keeper said "Sure, but no return, no guarantee"
No problem I said....perfectly fine
I looked inside; and it was MINE
"Funny" the Keeper said
"that happens every time"