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Go Back!

Inner light lifted

dearheart with a little d,

back to Shem Creek

tangerine puddles

abound, grasses glow

orange, yellow, purple

and green. Earth’s

work of Art. Sunsets

on all we know. The

door was open then.

His shell gone, love is

sown and grown.

 

Go Back!

Could I please go back?

 

Dearheart, dearheart

with a little d, he never

knew the duality of a

read. Of course, he never

actually read my writes.

Too bad, his unbelief, he

is so special to

me and my secret

term of endearment for

him, a little d close to His.

Humble, I thought.

Or so it seemed.

 

Go Back!

Could I please go back?

 

White crown, bright eyes,

pale tones of wear. I love

the wit, dry humor

from across the water.

Some brain, but not

so much. He knows a

great wine or two, of

course I fixed that with

my sweet moscato.

Kind words with him

most times. Breathless daily

just to be near he is so dear.

 

Go Back!

Could I please go back?

 

Alas, the beauty we have

seen, the sunsets, billowing

storm clouds from upon high.

Snows, cold cottony piles,

Flatlands, ruined views of

windmills worse than any

billboard you could imagine.

Distaining the earth view as

far as the eyes could see!

Oh, what a horror, worse

Than any you could see!

Windmills, worse than strip mines!

 

Go Back!

Could I please go back?

 

The eagle has landed for

my close up photos.

Molting and ready for

this season of fish. His

other large friend with

the largest wings

hiding his banded black

mask like Zorro so prey

would mistake him or her

for the eagle who only

eats fish here. A sneaky

friend indeed!

 

Go Back!

Could I please go back?

 

Birds with golden wings,

glistening light bounces

off the lake. Painting the

gray house, painting the

mountains, abstract

angel wings, herons in

the winter grasses in

“The Lowcountry.”

At cooking we have

talent as many older

folks do. Very, very

creative, colorful hosts.

 

Go back!

Could I please go back?

 

When your eyes were

Bright. I could see your light!

You left your hair white. Had

natural affection, thought

you had direction! dearheart,

he is the one. Stunning poet

thought He sent you. Thought

He sent you. Now sitting,

wondering if you could even

hear Him. Listening you do,

sitting in a pew, consternation

awaiting confirmation.

 

Go back!

Could we please go back?

 

OMG, He cares for you,

and even me too! Stumbling,

He watches over us. You say you

cannot hear Him. How can that

be? I see you follow Him, you

are just like me. You will not

hear a voice! Dying your hair,

thinking you are Fred Astaire.

Why would you dare, don’t you

see people stare? I love your crown,

just don’t care. I would have always

been there. Think your cunning?

 

Go back!

Could we please go back?

 

With just one line,

his voice leaves her breathless,

even still in her confused state,

his voice is weaker, and you

became so much meeker. Where

Is that stunning, bold poet, with a

little spice now? It is only sensible to

depart, after all she’s been through.

You played out the greatest play.

Victimizing her with ten ways to dump

your girlfriend and fifty ways to leave

your lover, finally dragging her she:

 

Go back!

Let’s just go back!

 

she may not surface; with you need a

‘break’ or ‘brake,’ it is out in the air.

Away she is just like you want. Right

or wrong, her covering is Him although

you wanted His place, she knows it will

burn His nose just like mace! Protect

you she does, covering you in prayer, too.

Which is her least reasonable service and

loving you? Gossip abounds, “is this a contract

on her”? “Moving her there”? “Might as

well be.” “What, he never asked her to stay”?

You know “the letter of the law kills”.

 

Go Back!

Let’s just go back!

 

“You know it is the right thing to do”? She

knows the law can kill as well as heal.

God works through man, sometimes He just

can, not a his bottle or his can, He always has

a plan. Maybe He works through doctors,

often you just need to take His deal. He

will not bargain, it is not like man thinks, there is

no margin. Despairingly she obeys his

arrangement. Knowing He has destiny, all

in His hands. We just shuffle our feet,

knowing we are like Keat. Not the poet,

just wishing we were again “the duet”.

 

Go Back! continued

Let’s just go back!

 

 

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