O Greta, dear Greta of Huskey Mountain Road,
If I loved you more, my heart would explode.
It has been a blessing to know you this year,
To watch you grow bigger and ever more dear.
I can’t hold a candle to love that is true,
A love that would die for both me and for you.
The universe expands; it never contracts;
That’s God making room for the love he enacts,
And all the small children whom He calls His own,
He calls them by name, before they have grown.
For all else is rubbish, yes, all else debris,
Compared to the knowledge that Christ’s calling me.
And so, my dear Greta, I fervently pray
The gift of salvation is coming your way.
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(a birthday card inscription on the occasion of Greta’s 2nd birthday - found in a file on the computer - she just turned 3...)
Categories:
huskey, birthday, granddaughter,
Form: Sonnet
To Huskey we go, a cookout for dinner,
With six grandchildren, a definite winner.
The evening cool, the fire pit hot,
Some soup heating up in a cast-iron pot.
Seems life’s pretty sweet here in Lacey’s Spring;
Lottery? Nah, I’ve done won the whole thing.
Categories:
huskey, family, heart,
Form: Couplet
They march together down the road,
one straggler at the back.
It seems to me her pace has slowed;
at least she has her pack.
The others walk around the mud;
she goes through each pot hole.
She’s down on all fours with a thud,
and now she’s on patrol.
There’s always adventure, to be sure,
on Huskey Mountain Road.
Whatever may ail, this is the cure;
just breathe, exhale, unload.
They tiptoe 'round the puddles there;
she jumps in with both feet.
They are all reasonably dry;
her soaking is complete.
They’re on the gravel, right on top;
she’s walking in the ditch.
They make good time; they rarely stop.
Her progress is a stitch.
There’s always adventure, to be sure,
on Huskey Mountain Road.
Whatever may ail, this is the cure;
just breathe, exhale, unload.
Without a care, my precious girl
embraces dirt and grime.
Oblivious, in her own world,
she’s having a great time.
We’ve simply learned to shrug and grin,
to bring a change of clothes,
and when she gets back home again,
she’ll likely need the hose.
There’s always adventure, to be sure,
on Huskey Mountain Road.
Whatever may ail, this is the cure;
just breathe, exhale, unload.
Categories:
huskey, adventure, grandchild,
Form: Ballad
Gravel crusted potholes, all slathered up with mud,
And ruts that jar your bones served on the side.
No place to turn around: I know because I've tried;
The heavy rains bring washouts from flash floods.
A great big hill so steep it evokes fear and dread
(When sloshing in a truck with two-wheel drive).
A ravine filled with brush, and trees no more alive,
Old tires guide wayfarers where to tread.
Out near 231, the forest's sounds subside;
The asphalt groove song echoes in your head.
And there, just 'round the bend, that quiet sense of dread:
The trail down to the place the woman died.
The big wide world awaits: four-lane divided life
To work and church and friends and so much more.
A fleeting mirror's glance; the heart takes flight to soar
To land, to lodging, daughter's family, wife.
Gravel crusted potholes, all slathered up with mud,
Like servings of my favorite dessert.
The tires turn to joy as paved gives way to dirt;
This road's my home: there's Huskey in my blood.
Categories:
huskey, home,
Form: Rhyme