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

  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 http://www.flickr.com/photos/mcmorr/2388666320/ 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 descri

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.

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.