Hi y’all 🙋🏼♀️
My apologies for not blogging more but I have seriously been busy. I’m talking BiZZy!
We are just getting the house back to normal after February’s winter storm, Uri. I’m not sure why it’s (unofficially) referred to as Uri? 🧐
I did a web search and unless I overlooked a reasonable definition-I found nothing that applied to the ice storm. Feel free to educate me.
Anywho we are getting back to normal. Haller-lu-ya!!
[doing the happy dance]
So before I get busy this morning getting the yard and pond back in shape I will leave you with a #TBT.
A Little More Time was written in 1980 something, originally published in Pose Prose & Poems in 1998 and republished in the 2017 poetic memoir called Getting Me Back
A Little More Time
There’s an eagle out there soaring And my best friend is out whoring
Turning tricks of any kind
Doing anything to make a dime God forgive her for the crime
All she needs is a little more time.
On the roof three stories high
A junky cries and begs to die
Ain’t had a fix in several days Swears he can’t go on this way
Across the street a church bell chimes
Grant us please a little more time.
An old man sick and dying
Alone with no one crying
He grieves for all the pain he’s caused
For all the people that he’s lost
Outside the window painted mimes All rushing for a little more time
A woman labors down the hall
Her anguish echoes through the wall
But soon a laughter takes its place When she looks upon the baby’s face
For a moment all is sublime
As we are given a little more time
A little color to enhance your celebrations.
And a friendly reminder, April is National Poetry Month #NPM
Cue 1972 Stevie Wonder – and Merlin
When you believe in things that you don’t understand then you suffer,
Superstition ain’t the way.
Only a theory, only a thought.
Utter chaos. Freedom sought.
Tranquil conscience. Congruent souls.
Harmonizing. Flocks and folds
Wars abounding, strife and sorrow
Never hoping past the morrow.
Ethics prevail; morals abstract.
None to govern what we lack.
Only a theory, only a thought
Life without law.
It’s out of the flip-flops and back in the Reeboks
and long pants dug out of the dust
So long to the tank tops, bikinis and cut offs
and lawn chairs left lying to rust
Adieu to the sand dune, the pelican and plain loon
My loves, we’ll see you `fore long
Leaves drop as trees swoon, long past the crop moon
With the scent of a sweet autumn song
Let’s all take a big swill to ward off the night chill
Winter’s a season away
Crank up the camp fire; avoid the ole quagmire
With children perched high on the hay
Well my oh my, that is a good looking picnic table.