The rain we saw pouring down.
Drops bigger than clouds.
Seeeth thou ever the man in the moon?
Searched as a child with never the boon.
In the crescent? I asked. Harvest, or half?
You see him? They’d say, with a half heart-ed laugh.
For years I squinted at the sphere in the air.
Envisioned him at leisure in his rocking chair.
Or was he standing? Or, walking? Or riding a bike?
Soon gave up looking, still as a tyke.
Years passed quickly, ne’er had I seen.
Throughout my boyhood, on through the teens.
Probably they were jeering, of me making fun.
Or, could they really see him? Guess I’m the only one.
I gave up ever looking, a sight I’d never find.
Rarely looked above me, to the moon I was blind.
Grew to be a man, more important considerations.
Began listening to God —a lonely heart, my only oblation—
I grew much stronger, His love grew my faith.
Looking up to thank Him, and there it was—
His beautiful, love filled face.
From times of Colonial script ─ troubles, of Indian lore ▒ A people then called “driftwood ,” along southern swamps and shores.
Strong enough to fight when pushed─ brave enough to stand. Smart enough to live in peace─for a piece of what was once their land.
They fought one side or the other, in every “New World” war─ vested forthwith, the only gift ─ black-water, and the gift to drift no more.
“Coharie Slough” Hand Carved Snake wrapped forked Bass Wood Branch with Dream Catcher… Snake carved from woody river vine, Gator head carved into the Bass limb, and the spear head carved out of Red Cedar. Bass Wood and Cedar stained with Red Oak, for the deeper, darker tones, and the snake stained with Natural. All leather is genuine leather made in Italy, including the wrapping on dream catcher. Comes with faux Eagle feathers, and two dancer bells. ( Inspired by the Coharie Tribe)
Time and Time
Waits For Nonone
Must Still Be
Had A Chill
One September Night.
Granny’s Poultice Rub Took the
Wheezing Away,Though It Was Still an
Eighty Degree Dog Night, With Crops Still In
The Barn. I Needed Rest, But Pa Forewarns. Bank’s
Taking The Farm, If Something Isn’t Soon done… Get Up
He Said! Let’s Take Out This Barn. I Said I Would If I could,
But The Heat Hurts My Head. He Said if Sherman’s Army
Gets Here, We May All Wind Up DEAD ! So I Pulled
Myself Upward, Staggering, I Fell Out Of The Bed.
I Pulled All The Tobacco Out Of the Barn By
Sunup, And Rested Beneath The Old
Appletree. Sherman’s Army Took
Another Path, And When Pa
Came Looking The Only
Things Found Dieing
Were The Tree,
And Me joyceinumass
Paul Willis-2011 GlorymomGeneralSherman
Awesome prose. I find myself re-reading, and hearing a different cantata. Music from my inner self, watching me listening to another, instead of being led by the directive rudder… Which leaves me angling wangle, only to discover…The inner meaning, that someone writes from their song.
Sing pretty butterfly…sing Cindy sing