THE WARRIOR POEM

It’s known as the Warrior Poem and is attributed to Tecumseh

a Native American warrior and chief

who as a Native American in the late 17 and early 1800’s

knew his share of war…and pain…and grief…

Though written many years ago

his message is applicable still….

And though we haven’t heeded his words yet…

Perhaps 

one day…

we will:

THE WARRIOR POEM

“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.”

FOREVER HOLDING HANDS

There I was at work surrounded by a thousand stories of drama, love and surprise

when one of the greatest love stories I could imagine unfolded before my eyes:

They came into the bookstore…a couple old and grand

wearing smiles across their faces…walking hand in hand.

I noticed as they walked the store…their gait was deliberate and slow

and they continued holding each other’s hands…never letting go.

They came in to browse, get out of the heat…look for a story or two

Before they left they stopped to talk to me…as customers often do.

It was at this moment when we spoke that I quickly came to know

why he held her hand so tight…why he would not let her go.

As he and I talked about the store…(he mentioned it’s a beautiful place)

she held his hand, stared at me…and the smile never left her face.

When she did enter our conversation…gesturing with her other hand

she laughed and giggled and mumbled…but she was hard to understand.

I imagine it was Alzheimers…that was interfering with her style

but it hadn’t yet stolen her desire…or her ability to smile.

I conversed with her as best I could…not understanding most of what she said

which meant a lot of looking into her eyes, smiling and nodding my head.

Before they left…her husband shook my hand and thanked me joyously

“For giving her the same attention,” he said, “that you have given me.”

She waved as they were leaving…her other hand he never dropped

and as they left the store I heard him say…”We’re heading to the ice cream shop.”

She seemed to quiver with excitement…the excitement of a child

then gave one last glance in my direction, waved again…and smiled.

I wonder how much longer they have together…

before Alzheimers makes it’s final stand…

But I like to think whatever happens…

they’ll be forever holding hands…

OH, TO BE LIKE THE TREES

In the comfort of my boat…as on the water I did float

under a cloud filled sapphire sky

From my spot upon the river wide…up ahead along the riverside

one particular tree captured my eye.

I have always been enthralled…how the trees grow straight and tall

How together they create such a beautiful sight

but something was awry…and the tree that caught my eye

was not straight…but leaning to the right.

Yet rooted to the land…this tree continued to look grand

even leaning as it did it still stood tall

For I am must now report…two trees were offering support

using their branches they would not let him fall.

The first tree did astound…it was lying on the ground

and caught the falling tree to help it stop

The second tree still standing with it’s open arms expanding

caught the falling tree nearer to its top.

And I had to smile at the sight…how nature does things right

how she uses all she has to save a tree

And the way, like birds of a feather, trees will work together

is a wonderful and beautiful sight to see.

And I thought we can learn a lot…all that nature knows and taught

for as to life…she seems to hold the keys

For wouldn’t it be grand….if one day we came to understand

How trees stand taller when they stand with other trees

CONVERSATION WITH A DANDELION

When I was young I’d pick dandelions…pick them with aplomb

I’d make a little bouquet and take it home to Mom.

I never thought much about it…never saw the need…

after all they weren’t really flowers…just a bunch of weeds.

I was expressing that thought the other day when a dandelion overheard

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, “but your thinking is absurd.”

“I am a lovely flower…grown from a beautiful seed.”

(I can’t believe I was about to have a conversation with a weed!)

I spread out on the lawn and met that dandelion face to face

“OK! I am listening.” I said to her. “Go ahead and make your case.”

“Well, without being too modest,” she began. “people pick me every day

and when they pick a lot of me I become a beautiful bouquet.”

“How many times are we brought to a house and make someone’s mother weep?”

“Did you know I open to greet the morning and in the evening close to sleep.”

“You can travel across the globe…searching everywhere low and high

and you won’t fine another flower who can symbolize the sky.”

“When I am yellow I resemble the sun as it shines in the heavens at noon.”

“When I change into a puff ball…I look just like the moon.”

“And I don’t think I’m taking this comparison a bit too far

when I say that as my seeds fly off…they look just like the stars.”

“There is no doubt when I arrive…from the moment my blooms unfurled

I make people smile and bring beauty to the world.”

“Ok…OK you made your point!” I said.  “There’s nothing more you need to say

but I have to tell you dandelion…you had me at bouquet.”

So now I understand and I’m on the dandelion as a flower bandwagon

Perhaps it’s time I have a talk with that fly 

who thinks he is a dragon.

MAGIC

You have to love the reasoning of a child.

You have to stand in awe…

You have to love it

Oftentimes I think that, as adults…

we could use a little more of it…

Their son saw magic everywhere

In ever cranny 

and every nook

When they asked how he sees so much magic

He smiled…

because I know where to look.

MORE THAN A BROWNIE

A funny thing happened…it made our hearts skip

as we sat and reviewed pictures from our latest camping trip. 

We smiled at each nature picture remembering how we communed

but when one particular photo popped up…the two of us immediately swooned….

It wasn’t the photo of the sun peeking through the trees

or that little deer print we found in the dirt?

No…the one photo that elicited the biggest response

was that brownie we had for dessert.

To be fair that brownie was warm and chewy and delicious

It’s the best one we’ve ever had….north or south

You could smell the warmth of the chocolate as you raised up your fork

and it, literally, melted right in your mouth.

And I wondered what would create such a reaction?

Why would this one brownie cause such a fuss?

Could it be when it came to our latest adventure…

it was more than a brownie to us.

We ate that brownie together…

though at the moment it went undeclared

Perhaps seeing it later symbolized in our hearts 

everything about our trip that we shared.

In that brownie was a taste of the sunrise, the feel of the water so wet,

a hint of the deer peeking out of the grass, a mouthful of a lovely sunset…

That brownie was proof that what the ancients say is true

and not merely an illusion…or myth

That all things in life are more beautiful 

when you have someone to share them all with…

Perhaps you are thinking I’ve lost my mind

that attaching so much emotion to a desert is bad form…

Sure, it’s possible a desert is just a desert…

but…did I mention

that brownie…was warm.

ON THE RIVER

Thoreau found solace in his pond…trees made Joyce Kilmer quiver

but yesterday I found our comfort…floating on the river.

We paddled and floated in our kayaks…you know…boats…the quiet kind

gladly leaving our computers and technology behind.

If we wanted to watch a video…all we had to do was look around

If we wanted to listen to music…we were inundated with sound.

We had a constantly changing video right before our eyes

we had the slowly moving water, the trees, the clouds…the sky.

We didn’t need a remote…no need to switch the channel being shown

because nature is always changing the view…subtly…on her own.

It’s like a panoramic 3D movie that is shifting all the time

It’s beautiful..it’s breathtaking…and it doesn’t cost a dime.

And if it’s music that you crave…stop and listen as you float

There is a rhythm to the waves as they brush against your boat.

Then music sung by countless birds from their nests in endless trees

finds its way into your heart as it drifts upon the breeze.

You drift along losing track of time…you flow without a care

feeling the coolness of the water…smelling the freshness of the air.

You instinctively stop paddling…as you drift around the bend

wishing this moment would last forever…hoping this feeling would never end.

and there upon the river…far far from the maddening crowds

reflected in the water…you find yourself floating through the clouds.

I understand what Thoreau meant about his pond and Mr. Kilmer about his tree

because yesterday…as if my magic… the river spoke to me.