As I was feeding my Mom her supper – trying not to feed her too fast, wiping her mouth and her nose  (which runs when she eats) – I couldn’t help but wonder – how many times she did this for me. With what tenderness and love did she feed me and try to get it just right?

Then I’d give her a drink, guiding the straw to her mouth, trying to leave it there as long as she was drinking, and I wondered to myself – when did I become the Mom to my Mom? Does she know how much I love her? So, I hugged her close and whispered in her ear that I love her, hoping to give just a bit of comfort in the otherwise bewildering existence  she now finds herself.

Who knew you had a number? You who now sport parallel yellow lines down your center, and crisp white boundaries down each edge.

You had no lines, and only crumbled edges when I learned to drive on you. Everyone drove down the middle since the edges crumbled away – maybe because you were gravel dredged from creeks in Stewart County, and pressed into hot asphalt.

When I drove on you in my youth, you were Jones Mill Road –  never highway 141.

It was driving on you that I first felt the urge to go fast and then faster. There was a short straight stretch where sometimes I would see how fast I could go before I had to slow down for the curves. 90-95 was about the best I could do. While traveling at such high rates of speed in my Mom’s station wagon, I dreamed that I could be a race car driver, or maybe that I was a race car driver. This is probably something we’d best keep to ourselves…

Take me back…

when time had no meaning –

everything was now or never, or maybe sometime.

to  sandy bottomed, spring fed, clear watered days of childhood

when time stretched  as endlessly as the creek.

to the rope swing my Daddy shimmied up the tree to establish – one time it gave me a blackeye.

to fish fries, picnics, and creek bathed cold watermelons.

to exploring upstream – all the way to the waterfall.

to a time when…

I’d always be young and carefree.

I’d always have my parents.

I’d never have any worries.

I’d always have everything I needed.

After all, you taught me so much…

Go with the flow – unless you need to go upstream – then fight like hell.

Always move forward – unless going back has something you wish.

Have grit – to you that was sand – to me it’s determination to live my life as fully as I can.

Stay on course – unless your soul becomes flooded with yearning to veer off track.

Be clear – let others know how you honestly feel.

Days of my youth, forever gone, yet always in the current of  memory.

River Road has the best dappled shade.

River on one side  – ridge on the other.

Trees overhang the road with

an occasional peep of sunshine.

Such riotous shade

the road willingly grows moss.

Asphalt with a leafy green hue – a verdigris finish.

I wonder if he knows how exquisite his feathers are –

those feathers with their mineral colors

and all those eyes peering back at me –

Does he wonder why I stare?

I’m bewitched by his dazzling plumage.

Fire incessant in

its need to be fed leads to

works of great beauty.

As the fire continues  begging the

Rising temperatures and heat suffuse

All who are near.

CHEMISTRY OR MIRACLE

Heat rises heavenward

As it transforms that which is inside –

chemistry? a miracle?

Isn’t chemistry a miracle?

A TOUGH MASTER

Fire demands more fuel

as clay glazed with color

transforms into functional art.

PYROMETRIC CONES

Pyrometric cones – made of

refractories such as silica and

melting agents – each carefully

formulated and assembled for accuracy.

(Written after I helped York feed his wood fired kiln on June 2, 2009.)

I have many scars – some visible only to me.

How can I make them count for something so there’s no further damage?

Physical pain can leave scars, and I have plenty of those –

on elbows, knees, shins, and ankles.

But emotional scars impact the soul – and it’s those invisible scars that helped shape my life.

As a result, I was given extra  measures of understanding, compassion. patience, and love.

Negative emotions are destructive and leave no room for good,

so let me be a vessel that carries more positive than negative.

Let my extra measures be used as a soothing balm

to soften hearts so they echo love and compassion.

I don’t ever want bitterness to steal my goodness.

Amethyst sky stippled with stars from our galaxy –

Fades to rose and then blush in the darkening heavens.

Alabaster road and ghostly fence posts show the way to a

Lone tree standing sentry –  protecting the resplendent beauty

Of the night sky and surrounding mountains.

Blank lines

Stare back at me

Looking for the window

To my soul.