Immersed in Gratitude

It’s hardly a few minutes before the crack of dawn

My alarm sounds off with a cathedral song

The coolness of the air a small sting when I throw off the sheet

And I’m suddenly aware of a small thing, I breathe.

I breathe in slow, a thirty count, and exhale

What is a long breath? Without it life would pale

I breathe in and hold till I gasp

My chest all tight my mind racing fast

I breathe! And I’m immersed in gratitude!

There on my left, my woman my wife

I recall her first morning in my arms; she became part of my life

Her heart a smooth beat there near her breast

A sweet whisper and her breath across my chest

She breathes! And I’m immersed in gratitude!

A rustling in the next room, my son's normal grumble

He flies down the stairs in a reckless tumble

I recall his very first breath, for his lungs a first test

When he joined us on our march to an inevitable death

He breathes! And I’m immersed in gratitude!

I hear the big lake throw her waves on my shore

Her tides come and go sometimes close to my door

Her lungs filled with all manner of life

The moon is her lover and he hugs her, each day twice

She Breathes! And I’m immersed in gratitude!

And through the glass pane before I rise

I see the twinkling of heaven's stars in the sky

A thousand suns born and spun

The universe alive with stardust and galaxies known to none

It breathes! And I’m immersed in gratitude!

Gunner©

Absolution

Little David Mallet was the toughest nail in town.

Leaner and meaner than most and closer to the ground.

Fighting and thieving had been the story of his life

He had fists like iron claws and barbed wire teeth; he was a master with a knife

Big Jack Hammer was a slow and easy walker

And though its rumored he had indeed spoke once, he was not an eager talker

Built like a big old oak tree, he always seemed at ease

And its true you could suddenly find him standing in an empty place, unexpectedly

Sexy Mary Brown was the dream of every guy; she was the sweetest girl around

She had a long stride and batting eyes, she could turn a man to a panting hound

She loved to dance and she loved to prance and music turned her on

So you took your chances, made your advances, but you always end up gone

Now you know that David was the rooster of the walk; he sure did like to crow

And if you saw him prowling somewhere on the block, Jack was sure to be in tow

Together they had no fear, they shed no tears: they always shared their beer

And David knew when the blades were drew, Jack would be there too.

On the 8^th of August, when the nights were hottest, the music played till dawn

And in the night, David caught Mary in his sight and over her he did fawn

They swirled and twirled, he held her close, she fell in tighter than most

He smoothed her well, she bought his tell and they left together when the dead bolt fell.

It was still dark when they crossed to the park and David wanted a kiss

He spun her round and forced apart her lips, but she whispered “No, no. Not like this”!

With a familiar rage he knocked her around and pushed her to the ground

She fought for her life and he pulled out his knife, “How do you want to be found?”

Big Jack Hammer was a slow and easy walker, not an eager talker

But his fists were heavy, they landed a bevy, and he dragged David off her

The flash of steel brought an end to the deal, and David went down hard

And he wondered how a man could move so well and find him caught off guard

And when the darkness came it was the end of Dave and no one felt any pain

And its rumored Jack spoke once, and its said he had the same to say again

“It was like the taste of a fine whiskey, my retribution.

But now, it’s a long and sober path over the mountain to absolution.”

Gunner ©

The Fingers of the Wind

I have known the fingers of the wind

That soothing cool, that lingering caress

From the warmth of a child’s awakening grin

And on to the cool of an older man’s distress

I remember puppy dogs and playground slides

Slow summer days and giant waves

Grandma’s hugs and blueberry pies

Monster dairy cows and bumpy tractors hauling hay

Fleeting memories of a childhood rushed by

Pushed by a whisper and a stroke from the fingers of the wind

The fire of the sun and cool of the moon

Pretty girls laughing and teasing

First loves hungry growl and a kiss ending too soon

Slow walks and long talks and passions found so pleasing

Fleeting memories of a youth rushed by

Pushed by a whisper and a stroke from the fingers of the wind

Sailing ships off the northern docks

The gifts of children that calmed my rage

Working hard with a drill and a hammer busting rock

Coming home with a puppy dog in a cage

Fleeting memories of a young man’s life rushed by

Pushed by a whisper and a stroke from the fingers of the wind

Autumn’s come and gone like the fall leaves tumbling from the sky

Children having children, toy plastic slides and puppy dogs abound

Grandmas in the kitchen making blueberry pie

And here I am feeling like I’ve lost my power and my ground

Fleeting memories of an older man’s life rushing by

Pushed by a whisper and a stroke from the fingers of the wind

Gunner  ©

My Fathers Pipes

There is a scent that lingers in the cold air

If you follow it you will find it comes from over there by the old chair

On the table top a rack of pipes

Red and white and green; One a corncob and one with black stripes

There is a tin of aged rum flavored tobacco

When I pull the top away I can still see the thumb push from the old fellow

I recall how his strong fingers would tug at it with fondness

The bowl filled slowly, carefully; and plugged with an artful press

I settled myself into his chair for the first time in years today

He’s been dead now better than a decade

With some reverence of my own

I lifted a pipe from the rack and placed it against lips it had never known

From the bowl a puff of scented smoke

Brought images, sleeping memories suddenly awoke

The big long calm man

One I know that had never raised his hand

The one who with a single look, those steel grey eyes

Would wash away any notion of telling a lie

He was a thoughtful man who knew the value of the past

The one who taught me not to live in it but move forward fast

Fishing trips, ski trips and hiking trips.

Car trips, museum trips and school trips.

My Father and I traveled well together when he was alive

I remember he wouldn’t spoil a trip by rushing to arrive

Accelerate when you double clutch, you drill a well like this son

Tie a fly with a loop and eight twists, double back before it’s done

You can carry one more concrete block boy, you can,  and grab a bag of sand

Walk around the car young man get the door and give the lady your hand

Sitting quietly with a smoking pipe

Giving into the calm and seeing things from a reflective light

It’s the one last thing my father could teach me

Consider the just done day and tomorrow will be easier to see

Gunner ©