Twas a lovely day in May.
A red-haired Grandmother, with her daughter and
grandchild strolled the soft, still grass.
Under a large pine tree, she unwrapped a beautiful pot of flowers.
In the center~ a flag waved softly in the gentle, Midwest winds.
They proceeded to a marble headstone with a gentle walk.
Not one of them had the need to talk.
Kneeling at the headstone~ she placed her head upon it.
Telling her husband, his family was all here for a visit.
Assuring him that they missed and loved him.
She then spoke....angelically:
" Brian, thank you for keeping our country so wonderfully free!
But alas at breakfast now, it's only me!
Brian, my Airman and eagle of my soul.
I miss your dark eyes that sparkled like anthracite coal."
She kissed the headstone as if herway to say,
She would be back soon~another day!
May 30, 2020
7:30am PST
Poem# 1,306
Norfolk attracts bone-chilling winds
So cold that no matter the cost
Men sold their soul for anthracite coal
Or a glimpse of Martha Grix Frost
Henry Fuller lived to sell coal
Though it never warmed up his heart
But once he saw Martha Grix Frost
His heart pumped hot blood by the quart!
48-years the heat was on
And 23-children were born
The love that they shared among them
Eased the pain of those deaths they mourn.
Henry died at age 69
An old Norfolk hero was lost
The tombstone bears his final words,
"Henry Fuller melted the Frost".
The still water of the northern swamp
shone like anthracite coal
lending a rainbow hue to the
mirrored reflections of maiden hair fern
and skunk cabbage.
Strangely grotesque maples
rooted wearily beneath in the hidden depths
of blue-blackness.
The summer sky above hang topsey turvey
Its sunlight sparkling
like fireflies upon the still water.
The leaden air caskets the first layer
of rampant growth,
misting moss, masking mushrooms,
where slick green frogs hide
beneath pink pond lilies.
The heat bakes the red clay bank
cracks gape like the toothless open mouth of a baby.
Layers of hot air create mirages of fright
as the swamp seethes in delight.
The still water of the northern swamp
shone like anthracite coal
lending a rainbow hue to the reflections
of maiden hair fern
and skunk cabbage.
Strangely, maples rooted wearily beneath
in the hidden depths of blue-blackness.
Sunlight sparks like fireflies.
The leaden air caskets the first layer
of rampant growth,
misting moss,
masking mushrooms
where slick green frogs hide.
The heat bakes the bank but the swamp
seethes in delight.
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