The Boonies and the Beach

Looking on the lake for a piece of property
To build a winter home for my man and me.
He loves snow, and I love the sun;
The compromise of two homes, for now, has won.

But as we age, we can plainly see
That our energies aren't what they used to be.
Even our children have aches and pains;
It's for certain we won't be young again.

When we purchased our home, we really thought
That our children would use what we bought.
But reality didn't cooperate;
By the time we knew this, it was too late.

The work on acreage is extensive,
And hiring workers very expensive.
So we're left questioning what to do,
If we can't keep up one, how will we do two?

Do we want to become vacation landlords,
And have our beds slept in by unknown hordes?
We could have small paradises in both places,
In both of which we enjoy friendly faces.

A beach house here, a mountain home there,
We'd be on vacation anywhere.
Granny camp could be such fun,
Both in the snow and in the sun.

I'd like advice on which way to go
From realtors and landlords in the know.
And from friends and family
Who may help us more clearly see.

Before we take the plunge, we hope to get
Information on how to sublet,
And who will visit each of our homes,
As through the country our people roam.

Make your reservations today,
If in the mountains you want to play.
You just never know how or when
Reality may intrude again.

The drive is long, but rewards are great,
Although many still hesitate,
To take the forested mountain roads
To our peaceful Appalachian abode.

A tour bus would be just the thing,
But there isn't one, our guests to bring.
Do you think we should install a heliport
For easy mountain guest transport?

A Crazy Christmas

We woke up alone on Christmas day,
No children or grands with which to play.
All of them were sharing their time
In their own respective family climes.

So much family we could have seen,
But this holiday season has trying been.
Unexpected death and relationship strife
Have caused some stress in our current life.

Now, many of you may be saddened,
But our hearts were truly gladdened;
We slept in without a thought
Of any things that we ought.

We had no ham we had to bake,
No enthusiasms we had to fake.
Our gift was time with each other;
We could cuddle alone under the covers.

A buffet breakfast and a movie show
Were quiet places we could go.
Even on Christmas there are people alone;
These places substitute for their homes.

We weren't without any baby joys;
We shared supper with our niece and her boys
Her husband is one of those who work
While we celebraters enjoy the perks.

So to his place of cooking employment
We took our holiday feasting enjoyment.
The boys were thrilled to see their dad,
And what pride in their family the parents had.

And then to see our son we went;
With their new toys our time was spent.
They had finished their Christmas duties,
And were relaxing with all their holiday booty.

Snuggle time with a granddaughter
Before retiring to our hotel on the water.
Christmas is just beginning for us,
But we won't have to make a fuss.

I'm looking forward to days of shopping,
And also some theatre hopping
With our daughter and her girls
As we give Atlanta a celebration whirl.

Extending Christmas may become a habit,
No more scurrying about like rabbits,
From there to here and here to there,
All the joy in one day to share.

We did, though, miss our package caper:
Yards of ribbon and wrapping paper,
The goodies our kitchen elves had fixed,
And all those gifts specially picked.

What a surprise those things will be
Long after disposal of the Christmas tree.
What is time, after all,
But a trap into which working folk fall?

We're retired and we can decide
By what rules our clocks abide.
This goes for our calendars, too;
Any day may become Merry Christmas to you.

Conscious of Christmas

I'm happy I know the ways of Jesus;
He certainly gave good examples to us.
This is as it is meant to be,
As we strive for eternal life to see.

Our forefathers were given a path to follow
But we continue not to be perfect, and so
We were given a brother who would not sin
To allow all the Spirit's light to shine in.

The Spirit of wholeness and pure delight
Is what gives humans our special might.
We must choose our path; we each need example.
The ways of most of families are not ample.

For seeking perfection is a process;
The tribes of Abraham have done their best.
The line of David produced a man
To be an example of the Eternal Plan.

We are still left to find our way:
Jews, Muslims, and Christians today,
All come from the same blessed line.
Hopefully we'll reunite, in time.

The Holy Spirit is how we succeed
In finding the peace for which we plead.
It isn't a contest for who is right;
It's a question of whether we want the Light.

I don't call myself Muslim, nor Christian, nor Jew
Because I haven't become one with those who do.
But I seek a common message of hope and love
In all I encounter as through this world I trudge.

So let us each be our best selves,
Sharing grateful hearts and the love that dwells
In all who seek a heavenly plane
In which humanity will be freed from pain.

It begins with each of us searching our hearts
For a peaceful place in which to restart
Our earthly relationships on a higher plane:
In our own little worlds, Paradise to regain.

Remaking Marriage

Is it true that marriage can be reset?
Vows reaffirmed and responsibilities met.
Injuries inflicted, can these we forget?

How many know when they are wed
The many challenges that lie ahead?
Who stands for them when their joy seems dead?

Our families seem not to care
In our commitments to do their share
When there seems no more love energy there.

Our people need to be the well
From which we draw the Spirit's spell;
Only this our trembling weakness will dispel.

Marriages don't thrive on one to another;
They take more than being lovers.
They thrive on families of sisters and brothers.

Isn't this the community to which we are called:
To form a fortress of sheltering walls
To protect our young when they threaten to fall?

Prayer without action won't calm the storm
When a baby won't quiet in her mother's arms;
Our commitments must be in active forms.

That midnight call of a man in pain
Wondering if his mate will ever hold him,
Who of us will hear his refrain?

Let us stop simply celebrating
When two sanctify their mating;
Let's commit to the family they're creating.

The rewards are many for being a part
Of helping to fill a family's hearts;
We help give our broken world a new start.

Treasure Time Together

Instead of hurrying on Christmas day,
I'm taking my children out to play.
My son and his boy met me at the mall;
Negotiations took only one phone call.
I smiled as they sparred with one another;
My son's no longer a little brother.
He's a dad, and he had the last word
On the raiment of his baby bird.
They argued and then pleaded with me:
Their arguments to oversee.
But I knew that my son would pass the test
Of wanting what, for his son, what was best.

My daughter-in-law, bless her heart,
In my Christmas shopping became a part.
She agreed to accompany my granddaughter
For what could have become a slaughter.
We began with a leisurely lunch buffet
At a coast hotel where gamblers play.
Then a drive watching whitecaps on the water
To shopping with limits we had to barter.
We succeeded in our purchasing adventure;
Now it's onto our next holiday venture.
My son had already bought himself
The gift I bought him, that unpredictable elf.

My sweetie and I will wake on the day
In a room of our own on the Biloxi Bay.
We'll spend time with only each other
Before we welcome the babies to smother,
With kisses and hugs and well wishes,
Over a table filled with holiday dishes,
Prepared by their daddy, a working man,
Who for Christmas, a day off was not the plan.
Gifts will have been given and unwrapped
The children will have, hopefully, already napped.
What a way to ease into the ending
Of a season that has been rather mind-bending.

In the new year, my daughter and her precious girls
Are going to give this gifting method a whirl.
In an Atlanta suburb, we'll have to see,
How easily we can complete a shopping spree.
The pace may be a bit more hurried,
But I promised myself I won't get worried.
It's about time spent with those I love,
And not about the push and shove
Of getting the most activity;
It's about the parts of each other we see.
This may turn out to be the best Christmas ever,
With memories of time together to treasure.

A Home for a Hummingbird

The wheels of The Spirit turn so slowly at times
That I feel like I've been left behind.
When I wait and pray with patience
I find that this desertion is all in my mind.

I've always been in a hurry to know
What, why, where, when and how.
If something is worth having,
I've always wanted it now.

While it's true that some things
Don't get better with waiting,
Some things have to mature
Before they're ripe for celebrating.

Relationships, like fine wine,
Have many nuanced flavors;
Each area must be allowed to bloom
Before the full measure can be savored.

I've spent my life like a hummingbird,
Collecting nectar from many flowers.
My desire to find a permanent home
Grows more intense by the hour.

While I know that nothing on earth
Is actually here to stay;
Until it's time for me to become soil,
I need a place for my children to play.

In watching the fruits of our labor and love
I feel a oneness with my Creator.
I'm fortunate that my mission in life
Seems to be chief celebrator.

Come one and all, I want to say,
Let us sing and dance with delight.
This is how I show gratitude
For each day's holy light.

Passion and Impermanence

I rode along the Gulf Coast just before sunset, taking photographs of the art that rises from death. What a special mind it is that can look at the remnants of destruction and see new life!

Marlin Miller must have a heart of pure light that, where we all saw our beloved old oaks as dying amputees, he saw opportunities for wildlife art. Talk about random acts of kindness! This effort seems anything but random, yet it arose out of a disaster, and is by its very nature transient. Even though most of the eagles, turtles, dolphins, fish, and other coastal creatures depicted in these rooted carvings survived the storm and will survive other weather-related changes, wood is destined to rot, especially in the punishing sun, sand, wind, and water on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. One can't help but admire the man who puts such passion into something that he knows cannot be permanent.