I wrote this poem for my Blipfoto journal eleven years ago. I thought I would add the old words to my 365 journal as Thanksgiving Day approaches.
Waxy Past
seafaring mayflower pilgrim
passenger priscilla, who so loved john
begat a son named david
and prospered
by strange shores.
one child with many siblings
he, along with mary
skippered on their DNA
down through the generations
shaped strong by tidal rhythms,
in spray of sea and swell.
mothers, fathers, and their children,
elders, farmers, simple folk
toiling, thriving,
sailing outward,
sailing onward bravely
they plyed that eastern shore.
molded, formed and strengthened
nurtured strong
by clear sea air
they stayed fast
steered true, the years gave way.
suddenly this morning,
as candles from past they
stared seaward from my mantle
two waxy faces careworn,
becalmed and etched by time.
years three hundred seventy eight
have passed since that david's birth.
still on, his line sails surging
downwind inside my veins.
moored fast, firmly anchored,
i lie safe and sound onshore.
For the Record,
This day came in sunny and cold before a rainy day tomorrow. Five of my oil paints are included in the collage as well.
I retired from public school teaching after happily spending twenty eight years playing in Kindergarten. Now I fill my days watching cat antics, taking endless...
