life is passing, swiftly, by.
No time for, apprehensive, fools.
You’ll feel, sometimes, like asking why,
but that’s not in the rules.
Changes mock us, line and hue,
not all for good, not all so sweet.
New age values leave us blue.
We’re, fast, becoming obsolete.
There’s value in maturity
a lifetime of moments, of merits earned.
No not just, old age, security
but knowledge, we’ve lived, we’ve loved, we’ve learned.
Driving late, on a lonely road
Just roaming, lost and weary
I think about us, well, the used-to-be us.
and our new past, so damned dreary!
Landmarks along this grainy lane
Pass by my gaze unbidden
I can’t change the channel, can’t look away
The images won’t stay hidden.
Sign posts scream out silently
Hazzards ahead, don’t go there
I can’t turn back though, I never can.
There’s a new path out of here, somewhere.
But there never is, just our tainted past
and the hurt that won’t ever heal.
So, I’m driving late, on this lonely road,
a ghost behind the wheel.
Spooky Old Tree
This old gnarled tree stood for years at the end of a long sloping drive. Mere moments after I took this, it was unceremoniously felled by the property owner. It was infested with dry-rot and growing to close to the power lines..
I feel badly for hardly ever noticing it until it was too late, 😦
Whilst walking home one recent eve. I was playing around with my newly purchased “smart phone”, Fascinated by the clarity and resolution possibilities of it’s built-in camera, I began snapping random shots along the way.
It was only later, as I was looking through, and consequentially deleting a vast majority of these careless captures, that I happened upon a gem. This image I liked enough to save. I would like to take credit for it’s framing and composition, but alas, cannot.
As you can see, it was a simple plant, fairly nondescript, but oddly proud and somehow thriving despite its precarious placement very close to a highly traveled road way. Perhaps it was once part of a cultured invention, I can’t say, but It’s waxen leaves seemed purpose-made to reach out and embrace the sunlight. The juxtaposition of the delicate softness of nature against the stark hardness of man-made tarmac. Appeals to me for some strange unknown reason.
Proud yet forgotten
symbolic of nothing and everything
Significant in your insignificance
Overlooked yet immortalized.
You stand witness to what, I wonder?
What other minor miracles of nature did I miss that day, that this chance “snapshot” en-capsulized so grandiosely?
I can but wonder.
Stern Wheeler’s Captain
By Cliff Lewis
As we strode ‘pon the decks
of the Proud Misty Mae
The stern wheeler’s captain
spoke of sights ‘long the way
That genuine tour guide’s
veneer was no guise
As Histr’y clear beamed
from those sage, seasoned eyes.
His words were like magic
Drawing of a Stern-Wheeler ship. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
what a spell he could cast!
He weaved quite a tapestry
Out of the past
He told of the people
who’d made this their ‘stead
raising gold from the depths
of that old river bed
stories of glories
legends and myths
Of farmers and fishers
peddlers and smiths
But time marches onward
and past fades to grey
As we reach our last port
of call for the day
and though rivers eternal,
roll down to the sea.
Steam Boats and cap’ns
so soon cease to be.