The peace left behind

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The last time I felt peace
I was standing
Under a grey November sky
Walking to see the beavers
Building a dam of mud and stick

At 15, and old enough to
Appreciate naked trees
My father pointed out
The progress of the dam
Some things can be measured

The grey sky muted the light
And the New England breeze chilled

I was comfortable in this skin once

Today my thoughts spin so fast
That a lassooing wrangler
Must tackle them at night
As they run, like cattle
At breakneck speed

Each day, bright lights
Dripping sweat, blinding sun
Slammed down by blunt force
No pooled waters of
The life I left behind

A Pixabay photo

Marching On

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My tribe scatters far
But what came before
Marches on

Arlington tribute
Restless children walk
Caisson procession
Small girl falls

Rifles and bagpipes
A crisp folded flag
He fought the good fight
We stand tall

A power unknown
Memories deeper
United through miles
Tribal bond

Meeting just today
We walked the same grounds
Lilac in springtime
Yellow corn

Passed to another
Ideals and passion
Righteous with valor
Marching on

A tribute to my uncle Edward L. Burnham
Held rank of Colonel with the United States Air Force
Laid to rest in Arlington this April

Photo courtesy Pixabay

Hallowing the pumpkin

FullSizeRender(1).jpgFirst the top
Then the inside
Scooped pulp
Seedy strands

Taped design
Creased folds
Pin pricked lines
Saw tooth cuts

Transformed
To décor
From gourd
Unadorned

Deliver us
From evil
All hallows eve
The communion
Of saints

Should we celebrate
You ask me

Putting on
The full armor
Holy spirit
Protect us
From darkness

Sacred and secular
Dark and
Triumphant
Truth in
Contrast

The punctured orb
Reveals light
In the dark

Pumpkin carved by Joan and Lana Mocco