Old cowboys don’t die
They board planes and fly away
Run down boots, no spurs
I picture his horse
Long put out to green pastures
Bent neck and swayed back
The man still stands tall
Smelling of leather and dust
Old straw hat in hand
I wrote this while waiting in line at a Southwest gate in Dallas. The photos aren’t great–I was trying to be surreptitious.
Odd, this staid woman
Who relished wild abandon
In nature only
Her ordered life calm,
While her garden ran amok
No rows, tangled vines
From pleasure abstained
Nary a drop of spirits
Her drunken plot raved
Last night I imbibed
A Cabernet Sauvignon
Mellow vibes accrued
Sweet drifting on sips
This languid summer evening
Deep in these red cups
Oh, deepest vintage
Layered tastes on eager tongue
Rich flavors ensued
From the border lands
We feel the children weeping
Lord, please hear their cries
Agents cold as ICE
Breaking families apart
Following orders
What would Jesus do?
We don’t have to speculate
Lord, hear our prayer
Matthew 19:14 King James Version (KJV)
14 But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Knife-like, the blade wounds
Slicing through civility
Severing all ties
One moment shatters
False securities wiped bare
All hope stripped away
When this old heart hurts
The pain seems unbearable
The burden, unfair
I slept for forty years
My eyes closed to injustice
But I’m awake now
Patriotism
Might mean kneeling in protest
Soldiers bought that right
We might not condone
The paths these protesters trod
But their rights remain
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
Skies darken, winds howl
Acorns fall before raindrops
Squirrels take cover
Deep blue framed window
Mute witness across the lake
Watch the storm with me
Thunder fills the gap
After expectant silence
Lightning left behind
I sat on the screened in porch yesterday afternoon as a storm moved in over the lake. The blue window in the middle picture took on the appearance of a face when I looked at it closely. Then, the bottom photo has a somewhat sinister appearance. See if you can find what I’m talking about. It freaked me out a bit.
Oh, and as I finished typing that last bit we had a very close lightning strike followed by an instant house-rattling clap of thunder. Scout (our cat) and I made a hasty retreat into the house. Whew!
Peace, people!
When up becomes down
Two wrongs might make something right
Topsy turvy world
Fake news could be true
According to the hucksters,
Else it’s all a ruse
Care to take a chance?
What’s behind door number one?
Pure propaganda
She haunts me at times
Those weary eyes and sad smile
When the facade fades
I cannot gaze long
Fearful of her influence
Leery of her ills
Mocking me, she stares
Eye to eye, she locks me in
My mirror tells all
We know she’s out there
Churning on the horizon
Her name on our lips
Feverish dervish
Frantic dance for the ages
Spinning tirelessly
Irma, we feel you
Whatever slights you’ve suffered
We will bear your pain
Praying for Eyebrowz 