thank you 😊
you blew in from the west
over the mountains
yes, you were
fences knelt down before you
just how renegade you lived
painted horses tucked in your pockets
winged eagles in your arching limbs
captivated by the movement of you
I was a farmer’s daughter
tending the domesticated
managing the meek
you yanked earth’s carpet from beneath my dusty sandals
my fall excited you
thrill caught the wet corners of your mouth
you kissed my naked feet
we pawed the dry soil with our dancing toes
the mountain’s other side
a mystery to me
you kissed me hard again
squared my trembling shoulders with the heaving sunset
unbound I wanted it all
in one delirious grab
I could have flown away with you
their cave-black eyes pressed to mine
like canvas prayers sailing to heaven
wet udder tears, careworn soldiering hooves
they knew not the way home
a poor man’s yarn
raw’ed his bones but gave him strength
this man possessed no bucket
if owned such a tin cap–its contents would have been soil not lists
earth from the earth as planted
resolved to nurture a determined forest
a father might tell his son about
a daughter–not even a warning
honorable and intended
thoughts lustful grey not clean (he a man)
but hands in control
for sowing of the soil
in my cap
by the scarred wrought iron pot lumbering over the fire
you would have loved this man
down to his raw’ed bones
There is a tale I’d like to share with you for gentle thoughts heading into 2015. It is a story of life’s fabric wearing thin but the threads holding true. It is the rich tale of a poor farmer. His name was Happy.
And Happy Knew Here
Happy received his name upon reaching his fifth birthday. Until then, he hadn’t a name. His parents didn’t want to name him until they knew him. Happy’s family was poor. They survived by toil and love. The only gift Happy had ever received was a long, blue coat. It was made from a wealthy chef’s discarded blankets. The handmade coat wasn’t intended as a birthday gift, it just happened to be finished on Happy’s fifth birthday.
Each night after their son was fast asleep, Happy’s mother and father worked on the coat. Happy’y father patiently braided together dog hair, crow feathers and wheat stalks to make coarse thread. His mother then painstakingly sewed the pieces of broken blankets together. It was a long and arduous process. When they finally gave the coat to their son, he smiled. He was jubilant. He was Happy.
Happy’s mother and father’s lives were spent harvesting, selling and preparing crops for the long, cold winter months. The only rest they ever allowed themselves was a few moments each day when they’d sing to Happy beneath the shade of a magical Weeping Cherry. Now the tree wasn’t really magical, but Happy believed it was. The Weeping Cherry’s fragrant pink and white blossoms sparkled like starlight. The tree’s long limbs sheltered the family like a warm embrace.
Time and toil eventually took Happy’s parents to a place of everlasting rest. Happy continued working in his family’s field and finding rest beneath the starlight of the Cherry Blossom. His old blue coat, now a waistcoat, had survived many, many harsh winters. One day while Happy rested beneath the Cherry Blossom, his coat rolled up like a pillow beneath his tired head, he heard his mother and father singing. Happy’s life had been hard. Happy’s life had been long. And though he lived a solitary existence, he never knew loneliness. Happy’s blue coat had protected him. The Cherry Blossom’s limbs had embraced him. His parents’ love had filled his heart with peace and joy.
And Happy knew here, beneath the magical Cherry Blossom tree…he’d lived a rich full life.
Thank you. I hoped you liked my little story of a man named Happy. May you dream of peace within a warm embrace.
Happiest of joy in the New Year…
Robin’s Tree painted on request several years ago as are all requests for dear friends.