Make it April when you and your mumma
come back to explore her childhood home
searching for solace when Grandpa is gone.
Enjoy the glory of Georgia in spring
as you poke around the garden paths
but don’t look for my ghost in the roses
or the showy whites of viburnum.
I’m not in a swath of azaleas
or a perfect row of tulips.
But rise before the sun first lights
the clouds behind the crest of trees
that shadow our stretch of Oconee.
Bundle yourself and set a brisk pace
through the chilly end of an April night
immersed in the chorus of morning.
The gates of my heaven are guarded
by a sentinel brown thrasher
belting a medley of bird-psalms
from the tip of a tender-leafed tree.
We’ll meet in the moments the new world glows
with clean glimmers of predawn light.
And I will sing my peace to you
in the whistling trill of a waterthrush song
and the sweet of a chickadee call.
You’ll bound like the yearling trailing a doe,
you and your mumma, but girl when you go
I’ll be the still spring in your soul.
Beautiful. I'm so impressed with your poetry. This reminds me of Robert Frost, although my knowledge of poetry is thin. And what a legacy you are leaving for your grandchildren!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda. Frost might be rolling over in his grave, but your comment has me smiling.
DeleteI’m hoping this will be many years from now, Bob.
ReplyDeleteCrossing fingers, knocking on wood, thowing salt over my shoulder. Thanks, Richard.
DeleteSo thoughtful and loving of you to write a poem for sweet Maggie!
ReplyDeleteAww, thanks, sis-in-law. I'm missing the little bundle of exuberance.
DeleteVery nice Bob, your words are amazingly descriptive of what I also see and hear this Spring, and as a lucky Popi to have 2 grands nearby, I understand your pain in missing Miss Maggie. Hope you get to travel to see her soon !
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jack. I'm sure you're a great Popi who will be a vital part of their lives.
DeleteNice read. Touching on quite thoughts,with a gentle hand.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Unlike Dylan Thomas, I aim to go gentle into that good night. Just not too soon...
DeleteBeautiful. I also hope that this will be many years from now.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Susan. Many years – that's Plan A. But as you may have heard: Man plans, and God laughs.
DeleteAmazing.. Married to KJH for all of those years, but you still have enough soul left to write good poetry. From one survivor to another..
ReplyDeleteThis poem rings true; brown thrashers and street-side weeds are certainly more our family's speed!
ReplyDelete