My Mamas

I spoke to both my mamas; they say they miss me every day.
I have waited for sixty years to have a mama with that to say.
I suspect it's because I have a habit of writing what looks like eulogies
For people who are still living, not waiting till they're deceased.
I write much about these women; what they say should be holy scriptures,
But we have all these rules which, on scripture, put strictures.

Unfortunately, for me, this causes some to become quite cocky,
And our relationships are bound to become rather rocky.
I never know if their reaction is because I embarrass them
By being so forthcoming with how I feel about my friends.
These two women are from the old school and spend their lives in service.
I find them so uplifting that, their presence, I often miss.

They have learned to laugh and to cry with their trusted friends,
Knowing that, as long as we care, our grief in being human never ends.
I so admire these women for their wit and their wisdom
It is a great honor that they count me as their valued friend.
I admire so many people for how they avoid false pride,
But admiration for each other is something that should not be denied.

Soft, Sweet Sunrise

Something special about sipping coffee at sunrise,
Especially when the air is fall cool and crisp,
Pink wisps passing over the sailboats,
And golden rays give the world a soft kiss.

The water shimmering as a breeze on it plays,
The birds fairly tremble with the joy of waking
Gifts of Creation on which I'm blessed to gaze;
This is certainly not of man's making.

Memories of the Mountains

The air is clear and cool today at our condo on the lake,
But the fall-feeling nip in the air, make no mistake,
Has me missing our fireplace at our home in the woods
Richard keeping it stoked on autumn days has always felt so good.

It's a rather luscious longing as I anticipate our next visit;
We have many varied chores that need doing, and yet
I think that we will take the time to luxuriate
In the warmth of the wood fire behind the fireplace grate.

Perhaps friends will come to talk and enjoy a meal or two;
Maybe some will even come to be part of our work crew.
And the times around our table eating meals and playing games
Making marvelous memories, that for all of us long remain.

It is always a great pleasure to work with our hands,
Maintaining and improving our forested plot of land.
It seems that it has been too long since we've seen our mountain friends
Maybe there will come a time when our two lives truly blend.

Smiling Through the Storm

The storm has passed leaving behind some damage, but also some healing;
It has finally extinguished the marsh fire that had asthmatics reeling.
The lesson I have learned from loss is that nothing on earth is permanent,
And we usually don't know all the answers for why the scary is sent.
I have never understood why people pray for certain weather conditions;
What may be a blessing to me, may destroy the dreams of a friend.

I do know that if I look hard enough, I'll find something to celebrate;
The rain has moved to our Tennessee home, giving that drought a break.
There was nothing to be done by us in our rental condo unit;
Watching the wonders of nature, cooking, and games was how our weekend was spent.
The most important lessons I've learned are that life is give and take,
And learning when all we can do is to hunker down and wait.

Silencing the Storms

Whitecaps on the water are a joy for me to behold
They lead me to think about stirring up the old,
Making way for new water and new water life
That seem to appear after the terrible strife.

I don't like to ride these waves;
Of capsizing and drowning I'm afraid.
But I can, in my perch above the fray,
Feel like a captain most brave.

I greatly admire those who can
Bravely ride out the storm,
With visions of a future that's worth
Subjecting themselves to harm.

I think I may have been one of them,
In a long-past time in my life,
But I can now relax a little bit
As a moral and brave man's wife.

Males and Moms

I've spent much of my life riding shotgun on other people's lives,
Thinking that mothers with small children needed help to survive.
But it has come to my attention that in this modern world,
Daddies are as capable of child care as any of us girls.
They're expected to change diapers and come running when baby calls,
Not simply to take them out for the occasional game of ball.
Those who bemoan that there are so many outside-the-home employed moms
Don't want to admit how many of us, as full time mothers, bombed.
There are those who have a talent for understanding baby talk,
And others who, at the constant crises of children, balk.
If we can now have male nurses in the hospital wards attending,
Certainly men are capable, of children's boo-boos, mending.
The trick is in defining who possesses which skill sets;
On moms being the better stay-home parents, I'm not taking any bests.

Flash Flooding and Flashbacks

The storm is bringing back memories all across town
Of Hurricane Katrina, in which our pasts were drowned.
Everywhere we go, people are reliving the terrors
That, in many cases, were caused by human errors.
Levees were built poorly and not properly maintained;
The pump operators were sent home, so the city wasn't drained.
There were lives lost; amounts of property lost is untold.
Those brave enough to come back aren't feeling very bold.
These winds, thankfully, won't become hurricane speeds,
And, to quench a marsh fire, this deluge is what we need.
But, we know that, in a blink, it could happen again,
As we count the inches of the pounding rain.
We feel a bit safer perched on the second floor;
The furniture isn't ours, so we'd leave and lock the door.