The water quietly murmurs along its path
flint rock lying in the bed becoming smoother with each ripple
songs, chirps, calls of birds
colorful and dull
The sighs of the leafy abode
shades of green from forest to moss
monuments of wood and stone
The trace of a breeze
like a child blowing bubbles
that carries the hint
of the coolness of the woods
The woods keep the secrets
the creek keeps the woods
I keep the silence of all within my heart


Just May

Her name was May.

Not named for the month of showers, flowers and springtime

But short for Maybe

As in maybe this kid won’t make it

As in maybe someone else will take this kid

Pushed aside and forgotten most of the time

She screamed and clawed her way into this world

Soon learning that silent was the way to be

Going unnoticed among the crowd

She tiptoed along on the steady route

Through the background of her thorny life

Forging a path, rising

Until standing at the front, still faceless, soundless to many

She found her way, her voice, her worth

She made it

Just maybe

No, just May

Named for perhaps, might, could

The Cabin

Felts House, WKU Campus, Bowling Green, KY
Standing in the breezeway
Of an era vanished like the mammoth
A cast iron kettle lays upended
Beside cold ashes
No longer useful  

Of a time now only in memories
The grubbing hoe leans
Amongst other forgotten tools
Like rubbish in the corner 

The days of working sunup till sundown
Fading away with the years
The spinning wheel is still
Silent without calloused hands to move it
Discarded with yesterday’s tricks 

Families scattered now
Once shaped together
Apparitions visiting like kinfolk
That gathered days ago
Standing in the breezeway



She prayed for intervention
Waiting and wanting her cry
No one answered
Only the trees cared to touch

She waited for a miracle
Giving up had become her hymn
No one ever listened
Only the wind cared to comment

She lingered for a dream
Long ago was but a wish
No one provided
Only the house cared to stand



Remembering is easy --for now. But I have visions of days to come where my memory may fade. Alzeheimer's. It's a horrible disease. There are other horrible diseases in our world, but this one that takes away memory and thinking is in my mind --the worst. Hoping, wishing and praying that this wretched affliction never touches another member of my family or me.

 I remember it took away my mother. My first recollection of something wrong was when she was supposed to come and visit, yet she never showed up. I called and called and finally she answered. When I asked why she didn't show up, her tearful reply was that she had started driving but couldn't remember how to get to my house. A route she had taken hundreds of times. Thank you Lord for her being able to remember how to get back home.

 I recollect this malady being the nightmare that caused my mother not to remember that she had had a heart attack and that she was in a hospital. Nightmare is the only way to describe the months following the attack. Days, nights that turned into weeks, living in the visitors lounge of the hospital. Being allowed to stay in the CICU more than the allowed visiting times, because Mama was calmer when I was with her and I could get her to eat.

 I recall being happy that Mama recovered from the heart attack and was able to go home. Though I didn't know whether to be happy or sad about the fact that she remembered almost nothing of the entire ordeal. But she was home and that was worth remembering and being happy about.

I know by heart the sound of my daddy's voice and the words he said when he called to tell me that my mother had suffered another heart attack and had passed away. He said "she's gone, Mama's gone." My memory is clear on the heartache my family and I went through. Still go through.

Memories, they say are to be cherished, treasured, held dear. They also say that memories fade away. I think memories give us hope.  I hope to keep my memories alive. I hope to remember. I hope.



The butterflies began as small as gnats
The jitters were released from within
Nervousness gave way to anxiety
Butterflies now the size of buzzards
Voice reduced to a squeak
Imagination turned into reality
Warmth spread like a rash over the body
Mortification settled on the shoulders
Death was wished for
Forgetfulness not as forgiven as amnesia
Embarassment is forever.


The Hush Before Winter

I'm not a hater of Fall. For the most part I like the weather, at least the sunny, crisp Fall days. But not the end of Fall when frost begins to show up on the ground. I love the Fall decorations, the crunch of leaves and the pumpkin and apple goodies so readily available this time of year.

I'm not a lover of Fall either. Fall is a time of sadness for me, the least of which is that when Fall arrives  it means Summer is over. The big hit I take during the Fall is that both of my parents passed away in the Fall. No matter that it's been 16 years since my mother left us in September and 9 years since my father passed away in October, when the leaves start changing and the feeling of Fall is in the air, it seems like yesterday   today.

So Fall is only a time of year to get through. Space between the lovliest of seasons and the ugliest.