Dirty finger nails sporting the fragrance
of rich soil knowing the job is done
when Spring's Tulip bulbs are planted.
The prick of the finger from trellis roses
and licking away the scar.
Dreamside views from the pond side bench
immersed in the thinkers pose wondering
the view of the Koi.
Sipping a hot cup of tea, cinnamon and apple flavored
honey sweetened. Two hands cupping at the warmth,
steam fogging my glasses. My mind peeking around the
corner as the brew invokes me.
Reading a long letter from that dear old friend afar
by fireplace, candle light and wine.
Laughter and tears scorching flames away.
Wearing my favorite shirt just after biting the
thread away that replaced that missing button.
Proving that even men can do this.
The dripping crunch of juice finding its way down the center of my
chin, what a delicious
crab apple. Grandma's orchard it is from.
Lighting the birch wood Yule log for
Christmas atop the mantle.
Hot chocolate in my homemade ceramic cup
legs curled up at the base of the birch wood roots.
Listening to the majestic pines one mile high to God,
Reminding me with whispered breezes that I used to
do this with my family as a child.
Ouch exclaimed to the gooey sweet sting of that
blackened marshmallow oozing from a twig.
The camp fire I lit myself.
Massaging my great clumsy toe that just affirmed
the position of the bed post in the middle of the
bedroom. Laughing out a curse word because
I am the one who put it there.
Finding the first of possibly hundreds of Easter Eggs
hidden by the Easter Bunny, remembering it just so.
Believing with all my might that he really did exist.
Sharing a ride with brother both of us mounted in
black and white on our favorite rocking horse.
The photo is mine on a wall I have painted.
Cleaning up after sharing with a group of friends a
large pan fried pizza. Echoes of belches from cans
of cold soda.
Laughing again at all the stories told with
almost every bite. Gosh, did all those things
Sitting next to Grandma "Noni" scented with
Both of us kneeling to pray to that man whom
she called God. Craning my youthful neck in wonder
as I perceived and wondered if heaven was higher
than the cathedral ceiling. She made delicious
home made bread.
Slamming my foot on the brakes of my first car
the "Silver Bullet." Not a BMW but it was mine.
The sigh from me I heard, I missed the bumper ahead
of me by one microscopic inch. From 0 to 50 in 300
Sleeping with my Labrador "Cokey" so still he laid,
the best pillow I ever had. He ran faster than "Silver Bullet."
but "Silver Bullet" I still have.
Watching the Judge put a blue ribbon on my first
elementary school oil creation. A still life bowl of fruit.
Dad said you could eat them off the canvas.
Cleaning grease paint from my face the night of Halloween,
so "cute" I was even though I smelled like a bushel of
Teaching my brother how to boil water, engrossed he sat
on top of the kitchen counter. It was simple, he was amazed.
God, I miss him. If I could just teach him to have lived.
He does though and he watches me boil water still..
Eyes opening from anesthesia knowing in the haze
that my appendix was somewhere in a jar. After my
first cough I knew my stitches down there did land
across from me on the wall. But the shot made me
care less. I could show you the scar.
Eating the icing from my finger, the cake was mine
from Aunt Margo a carousel of carnival horses
the best birthday I ever had.
Watching the Wizard of Oz the bowl of popcorn
shared with siblings born and unborn. I just knew that
place was real and look to this day for the rainbow
My first communion stuck to the roof of my mouth
was that white cardboard disk. The Bishop's ring I did kiss.
Oh, I was so reverend. Smiled I did at the first taste of
once before forbidden fermented fruit. My first buzz I guess.
Languishing over that term paper that would I was told
in the future make me legal. Knowing now it was worth
the effort because now I make a good living.
My first encounter with sex allowed through marriage
resulting in the birth of three sons one at a time.
Sleepless nights now wondering how they are doing.
Not with me do they live.
Salty ocean water confused was I
when it went up my nose with a sting. I should
have breathed out when instead I breathed in.
I was three.
The squirt of sweet cherry juice from my favorite confection
chocolate covered cherries. Remembering the mischievous
gleam in the old ladies eye that sold them to me because
she knew that I was addicted to all those calories.
My dentist was passing her five's.
Standing at my brother's graves edge fulfilling that
once I promised I would be with him until the end.
Stump me he did when he asked "So brother, how do I die?"
My answer was action not words. I hugged him and we cried.
I pray he was satisfied. Most surely awing he is about
the cathedral ceiling with Noni. Cokey are you with him?
Killing that big black hairy spider that made
my Mom squeal in unimaginable fear.
I was her protector then. No one does that for me.
Thanking my Dad for his genes that determined
I should have a receding hair line. Thank God for my strong nose.
Being stupid beyond control until I have that first cup
of coffee in the morning thanks to the gene pool of Mom.
Drinking coffee with her by phone
because we are a thousand miles apart. Laughing in tears because
I in my coffee put orange juice instead of cream.
Solid proof that I am her son.
Believe me this is not all there is from then and surely
not from now. But paper is limited and so is your time.
So suffice it to say prayer is infinite and remember,
I will, to continue to pray for me and for you. It's free
and it's healthy. Put them on paper as did I and blessing
upon blessing I promise will they come. This is
what prayers are.