Tag Archives: cooking

WE SHOULD GO DANCING

morning poem, september 26, 2015 Posted on September 26, 2015 by labeak52 . WE SHOULD GO DANCING . I put on Sam Cooke and my feet move I don’t even have to think about it. (She was only sixteen. . . ) There is time … Continue reading

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evening poem, july 5, 2022

If I could choose one day of my childhood To live again It would be one of these long days of summer That never seem to end I’d stay outside till the sky finally turned pastel Then to my bed … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, February 2, 2022

(I actually wrote this one a long time ago, but I remembered it lately and, after all, it is Groundhog Day, so let’s do it again.) – The people of Hot Springs, Arkansas Don’t have no cares about nothin’ at … Continue reading

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Afternoon Poem, January 19, 2022

Pappaw kept a lettuce bed behind our house There was a little rectangle of soil between the back wall and the alley Shaded almost every way He dug and hoed until the dirt was fine as sand And rimmed the … Continue reading

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Please Let Me Wonder

“And now here we are together…” Posted on August 25, 2016 by labeak52 The whole trip had been my idea, but it hadn’t been hard to sell. We drove 200 miles from Charleston, West Virginia to Roanoke, Virginia last weekend to see Brian … Continue reading

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From Dartmont to Lock Four

It’s a cool forty-plus degrees as we strap the canoe to the top of the SUV.  The thought that we might have waited a little too long to make this trip crosses my mind, but I dismiss it quickly.  My … Continue reading

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Learning To Dance

When Wendell Douglas come back from the war he looked to be about a foot taller.  He’d volunteered as soon as he was of age and shipped out right before the Allies took the beaches in Normandy.  He didn’t see … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, April 28, 2021

First thing I hear is the sound of a train Did it wake me? I know its route It comes out of the south Will it take me? It bellows and moans, like a calf in pain.

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Evening Poem, March 25, 2021

. At twilight the great birds gather In the naked sycamores Their black wings rasping as they move From branch to branch Now they lift slowly As if through water Their wing whispers multiplied Wild and magical sound of blessing … Continue reading

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Morning Post, February 17, 2021

Remember snow days when we were kids?  While it was still dark Mom or Dad would crack the bedroom door and say ‘You can sleep in, buddy. No school today.’  Was anything ever more relaxing; more welcome?  Then breakfast was … Continue reading

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