THANKS

 THANKS

When I look around at all the misfortunes in the world and think, I can’t take it anymore…I stop and make myself think about all the things I have to be thankful for.

I’m thankful I woke up this morning…healthy…not in any pain…

I’m thankful I got to greet the sun…and welcome in the rain.

I’m thankful I have a place to live…a place to call my home…

I’m thankful for my ability to think and write…to put words into poem.

I’m thankful for my memory…all these pictures in my mind…I’m thankful for when and how I took them…

I”m thankful for the foods I eat…and for a stove on which to cook them.

I’m thankful for the birds who outside our windows float melodies on the morning breeze

I’m thankful for the flowers, for the butterflies…for the birds…I’m thankful for the trees.

I’m thankful I’ve been given the joy of living…and as we step outside our door

I’m thankful for this wonderful day…a day I’ve never seen before, 

I’m thankful for my senses…the ability to touch, taste, hear and see

I’m thankful for my ability to walk…and to have someone to walk with me.

I’m thankful for the the little creek where we stopped and watched the water as it flowed.

I’m thankful for the turkey family who walked ahead of us on the road.

I’m thankful for the colors in the sky and how throughout the day they blend.

I’m thankful for my children…my grandchildren…I’m thankful for my friends.

I’m thankful for babies…even when they fuss and scream.

I’m thankful for donuts, chocolate chip cookies…I’m thankful for pizza and ice cream.

Im thankful that, at my age, I haven’t forgotten how to learn.

I’m thankful that I love…and that I am loved in return.

I’m thankful that I can find things to be thankful for each and every day.

I’m even thankful for unknown blessings I know are already on their way.

It’s funny but whenever it’s to dark places I find my mind has slid…

I take the time to be thankful…and I’m always thankful that I did.

It’s a matter of simple physics…one of the keys that could make this world we all inhabit great….because the more time we spend giving thanks…

the less time we have to hate.

WHERE THERE'S A WIL

 WHERE’ S THERE’S A WIL…

I love to write down what I’m thinking…I love to take the time…

to gather up my thoughts…and try to make them rhyme.

I post these thoughts on Facebook…for friends and family to see…

and I am always overjoyed…when everyone agrees with me.

But every now and then a friend or family member comes along…

who disagrees with what I’m thinking…who thinks that I am wrong.

This person gathers up his thoughts…he even takes the time

to respond to what I’m thinking…(although he never makes his rhyme!)

I believe our country’s headed in the wrong direction…from what I hear and see

He sees with different eyes than mine and does not agree with me.

I try to comprehend his thinking…as I’m sure he does mine too…

It’s a struggle as we try to understand each other’s opposite point of view.

I’m pretty sure we both know….we both have come to realize.

there are certain issues in this country on which it’s impossible to compromise.

Still, I imagine we both share this similar thought…about the difficulty of our plight…

How do I make him understand that he is wrong…and I am right?

We do agree on some minor things…but on most major ones…we don’t

And if we ever hope for total agreement with one another…

there’s a good chance that we won/‘t

But I will keep him as a friend on Facebook…because we have a lot of work to do…

and unless we discuss our differences…no-one will ever change their point of view.

So I will continue to listen to the words he writes…and he will listen to my rhymes…

as we both keep fighting to change the world…one person at at time.

There’s a chance neither of us will change our views as we dance this delicate ballet…

but I figure I have a distinct advantage….

because where there’s a Wil…there has to be a way.

DENDROPHILES

 

I love trees but I am not an expert…I just know they touch my heart…

Except for some maples, poplars and a few oaks…I can’t tell trees apart.

Because I’m not an expert…but still love the way they make me smile…

I would never be considered an arborist…but I am a dendrophile.

An arborist would have studied and understand the science of every tree that comes her way….but as a dendrophile…walking among the trees I’m surprised a little every day.

An arborist knows there are over 64,000 species of trees…a fact they have been taught…

As a dendrophile I look at all the trees in awe…and say,..”WOW! I sure do see a lot.” 

An arborist…probably has some awe in him…but understands a tree’s creation

As a dendrophile, happily, I only have my imagination. 

An arborist cannot make up stories about trees she knows may not be true….

but a dendrophile…we’re different…for that’s exactly what we do. 

Since there is so much about the trees and the forest we do not understand…

a walk though the forest with a dendorphile…is like a trip through a wonderland. 

A dendrophile walking in the woods…bathed in moonlight or in the light the day…

hears the trees whispering to one another…and wonders what they’re trying to say.

So we make up fables and fairy tales…some as fanciful can be..

about all that inhabit the forest…and about our friends the trees.

For instance arborist sees two trees close together and explains how they communicate, how they share nutrients…how it’s part of what the Creator and nature have planned…

A dendrophile sees the same two trees and says…

Aw look…they’re holding hands.

Certainly there is a place for arborists….

their profession is both beneficial and worthwhile…

But as for me…

I’m happy walking through the woods for the rest of my life…

one joyful dendrophile.

THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD

 I look out on the world and try to find the beauty that is all around us…and most days I find that easy to do.  Today, however, not so much.  Today I lift my voice is sadness.  Today I pray that whatever entity you pray to, you pray that he or she can teach us all love, compassion and honor so that we may heal the world…and each other.

Tomorrow, hopefully, I’ll go back to discovering the beauty…because I need to see that beauty…it is that beauty that gives me hope. It is that beauty that usually guides my voice.

THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD?

When I was young I was brought up to believe America was the greatest county in the world…a country other countries around the world adored…

but now that I am older…I don’t believe that anymore.

Look at our history with the Native Americans, with Slavery, with Japanese Americans etc. etc.…atrocities our country would like to remain hidden….

So much so that in some states…teaching about them is forbidden.

Would a great country do that?  Teach only the history that makes us look good…that makes us glad…while ignoring our barbarity…while excluding all our bad.

Can we call ourselves a great country…this America we’re living in…

when people are still discriminated today…because of the the color of their skin?

Can we call ourselves a great country…can we call ourselves a shining star

when people are still victimized…for who they love and who they are?

When you stop to think about it…can we call this country great

when some people use their religion…to justify their hate?

Where we forget our servicemen and women…where we don’t even make a fuss

or fight to take care of the very people…who fight to take care of us.

When money is more important than the environment…more important than our oceans and our seas…more important than the animals…more important than the trees?

Where we don’t have health car for everyone.  

Where we don’t welcome everyone to our shore.

Where there is still a huge discrepancy between the very rich…and the very poor?

Where unimaginable numbers have been murdered…as each new killer tries to top it…

Where we say how sorry we are at each family’s loss…but do nothing at all to stop it.

Where innocent people are gunned down…where someday it might be you…

Where even the people who say it has nothing to do with guns…know that isn’t true.

And now a decision by our Supreme Court that has left many of us bemused…

the women in our country have lost their right to choose.

They say it’s to protect the unborn children…that all life is sacred…but, please, don’t be fooled..this came a day after they made it easier to carry a gun and and kill our children in their schools.

So when I hear someone say America is the greatest country in the world….

as I see her frail democracy dying….

I find it difficult to agree…or cheer…because, right now, I’m too busy crying.

For not only do I NOT believe this hype…this propaganda…this absurdity…this buzz

but looking back at our history…

I now wonder…if she ever was.

A BLIND MAN AT MONET

 We visited the Monet and Friends exhibit at the Biltmore Estate….

It’s a melding of technology, art and sound

The music is a backdrop…while the art is projected all around.

Immersed in the music and the art you can’t help but me mesmerized

It is a celebration for the ears…and a festival for the eyes.

As my eyes tried to keep up with the ever-changing art projections…I became aware

on a bench across the room…and an old man with a cane who was sitting there.

His eyes were closed which piqued my interest…and he swayed a little as he reclined…

He was listening more than watching which made me think…this man is blind.

You don’t come to an art exhibit, I thought to myself, if you do not have your sight…

So I eased on over and sat next to him…to see if I was right.

“I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here.” he said. “For you may have guessed that I am blind.”  “I have to be honest.” I replied. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

“I haven’t always been blind.” He said. “Over the years my eyesight slowly faded away.”

“Before it did I loved looking at all kinds of art…my favorite was Monet.”

“When my daughter heard of this exhibit…this Monet & his Friends show…

She asked already knowing the answer…If I would like to go.

“But how are you enjoying this?” I asked. “Surround by paintings you can’t see?”

The old man smiled, let out a sigh then patted me on the knee.

“It’s true my eyes no longer see the paintings…that is a consequence of being blind

but because I remember what they look like…I still see them in my mind.”

Because my ability to see them has long ago faded from my view…

my mind now does the seeing…my eyes refuse to do.”

As I listen to the music…I enter the room in my mind where all my Monet’s are stored

and across the darkness of that room…his colors begin to soar.

And once again I experience his paintings…they’re right here in front of me…

and for a moment, a wonderful moment, I feel like I can see.

We sat together in silence for a while…I even closed my eyes…hoping I could find

a way to experience the beauty of Monet…through the eyes of one who’s blind.

I thanked his as I left him sitting there smiling…no longer wondering what he was doing…Wondering instead which one of Monet ’s paintings he happened to be viewing.

I knew seeing this exhibit would be wonderful…and I’d probably learn something along the way…but never did I expect to learn so much about how to see…from a blind man at Monet.

OLD OVERALLS

 I have this wonderful old pair of overalls…with years of stains from head to toe…

I bought them the first year we came together to the mountains….34 years ago.

I wore these overalls when our children were young…because I wanted them to see

how working around the cabin was important…and…because they looked good on me.

I wanted them to understand…hoping the overalls would help them see…

how the cabin, our home for two weeks every year, still needed some TLC.

I wore them to work in the yard or the garden…with Deborahs father by my side…

we wore our overalls and worked together…until the day he died.

And I’ve kept wearing these overalls…even though at times working alone is sad…

to keep our cabin looking good …and as a tribute to Deborah’s dad.

Each year I put them on again…and smile at the memories…

then go to work around the cabin knowing he is watching me.

I’ve tried to respect his vision for the cabin…I think about that with my every move

and even though he’s no longer here…I like to think he would approve.

My grandchildren have seen me in these overalls…and as my oldest grandson grew…

there came a day when I was happy he he asked, “PopPop…can I wear them too?”

These overalls have seen their fair share of sweat and mud and rain

and no matter how many times we wash them…we can’t get out the satins.

But that’s fine with me because I love every grass stain on them…

even how the legs over the years have frayed

It’s all part of our shared history…and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I put them on again this year and as usual said, “Hey, these still look good on me.”

and as I began to work around the cabin…

I’m pretty sure…

Deborah’s father would agree.

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

 The heart is a remarkable organ…ready to accept love with every inhalation 

and just as prepared to give love back with every exhalation.

Which means everywhere we stop…pieces of many other hearts we find…

and when it’s time to go…we leave a little of our heart behind.

For when a heart is filled with love…no matter where we roam…

Wherever we stop for the evening…will always feel like home.

We have a house in Florida….it’s where our children received their chromosomes….

It’s where they did their growing up…it’s always been our home.

We have a family cabin in North Carolina…

for two weeks every summer to this cabin we would roam…

for two weeks every summer…this cabin was our home.

Our children all are grown now but when we get together…

or even when we just talk to them on the phone….

in a restaurant, or 600 miles apart…it always feels like home.

It is a wonderful feeling…wherever I go…and from every place I may depart…

I have a mobile home that travels with me…I carry it in my heart…

The other day, after returning, I was cleaning the floor of our cabin in NC…

when I noticed a heart design in the floorboard…staring up at me.

Reminding me as I grow a little oder…no matter where I roam

my home will always be where my heart is…

and where my heart is…

will always be my home.