Magazine Posts

A glorious day; it was in the Spring.
Grabbing my fishing pole, I then went
out to the forest, to do my thing.
Walked to the creek from my parked car,
it was close to the road, not very far.
I fished from the bank, perhaps for a mile.
It was a beautiful scene, not seen in awhile.
I climbed on a log, laying over the stream,
espied some movement, back on the shore,
when a Momma Black Bear, came into view.
She had a cub, trailing her now.
For some reason, I'm still not sure why,
I opened my mouth to say hi.
A short, woof, woof, is what I said
and Mom stood up, looking all around.
I didn't move, making nary a sound.
I decided it was best, and pretended to be
a small picture that looked like a tree.
Fortunately, I was upwind,
so no scent she would get.
The Bear and cub moved on
and then it was me,
seeing a Bear that was looking for me.

How can you pine for someone,
when a Pine is a tree?

There will be a tomorrow,
that is most certain.
In spite of all the sorrow,
there won't be a final curtain.
That curtain of black cloth,
blocking the morning Sun.
Searching the broad horizon,
looking for our life's fun.
"Is it me?", she said one day.
"I'm sure I'm not the only one,
or can I be sure and say,
my life has now begun?"

A single line of Tulips
across the hallowed ground,
lies the remains of our heroes
where they always will be found.

There lies Sgt. Smith;
a marker with his name,
who gave his life for Country
for a World he never knew.
He lies, interred, in the ground
for all, not just a few.

Pray for him and the others
at this most revered site,
for they were all our Brothers,
who died the noble fight.

Hello to you,
my young charge.
It's good to see
your smile.
I enjoyed our visit,
when last we met
over a cup of coffee.
Memories from
so long ago,
about 20 years
or more.
You still make
me smile.

Oh me, oh my, this is swell
as my old body is on a slow ride
straight to Hell.

The Raven called, in dead of night,
for me. I know not of thee,
nor of what life is to be.
I pray with vigor and with might,
that those I love will be alright

A gathering is what
we say and do,
when celebrating a birthday
for me and for you.

If I had known
I'd been in this house
This long,
I wouldn't have
Planted the Lace Leaf Maple,
So close to the front door.
I should have removed
For transplanting, many years before.

Where will I be without you?
What will my life be
if you aren't with me?
Grief ridden thoughts abound
in this aged head of mine.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself.
Please stop with the whine.
You must be stronger;
don't let her see
the sadness in your eyes.
She said before
she doesn't like to cry,
so I must be careful
and hide the wetness in my eyes.
Be brave, strong and stoic,
that is best for me.
Keep your tears well hidden,
please don't let her see,
the weakness in me.

I want to write about a glorious thing,
upcoming soon, a wonderful Spring,
when Daffodils, Hyacinths and Tulips.
All leap up, from the garden ground;
song birds will provide a tuneful sound.

It was back in the day,
many years ago,
in a place called Riverton Heights.
The Seattle Times held a contest
at local schools.
I attended Showalter then,
atop the hill above Foster.
The contest was called
"Old Woody".
Old woody was a frame of wood,
in the shape of a Baseball strike zone,
in the center. A distance was set.
Each contestant would go to the mound
and throw balls. The rule was
to throw strikes until such time
that you threw 4 balls.
The winner was determined by the
one with the total number of three
strike outs.
Surprise it was to me,
when I beat all the others
and won the contest.
The Seattle Times took my picture
and was in the sport pages the next day.
So my claim to fame at a very young age.
Many years have passed
since that time in my life.
It was my first competition in baseball.