ticking clocks of passion / August 31, 2011 by admin

Juliet's Romeo, Martin Luther King, my brother, Charlie Chaplin's Tramp, a scarecrow, Neil Young, the soldier.

Men of passion leave pages behind in history books, diaries, and liner notes; hold the hand of those in need; think differently but creatively; offer yes ma'am and sir without hesitation; are caregivers; believe in today; make mistakes but understand the importance of an apology. They dance; are quiet; prosper by thinking; understand the drawn out bugle call of Taps; make a difference in someone's life; have written a love note or two, maybe even three… and have hopefully delivered at least one. They welcome opinions; have plenty to share; cry; create an event from the average; and whisper quietly.

My life has been fully engaged by them, though most I've never even met. Those who happen to cross my path however, I hope will know differently.

away from the traveling show / August 13, 2011 by admin

A number of things stood out today that I usually miss in the routine of days.

· A handwritten letter expressed friendship.
· There was a dead snake in the middle of the road. I saw it just after noticing a white hair on my forearm.
· The strength of a wind blown American flag snapped crisply from high atop the pole.
· Leaning up against a roadside stand was a weathered plywood painted sign. The message read: Tomatoes 3 for $1.
· A passing stranger offered me a good morning greeting. I smiled and returned the sentiment.

solitaire / August 11, 2011 by admin

Some of my most memorable conversations were only heard by myself.

the crow calls / June 23, 2011 by admin

I ready each morning's sunrise, waiting on the song of crow calls, while silhouettes of human lines silently fade away.

horizons / March 13, 2011 by admin

I can barely see the break of the dotted lines. Time is calling.

labor of two men / March 5, 2011 by admin

Most of us work five days a week. After forty years or so, some are able to stop. Retire. Seniority establishes skills. Masters refine them.

collecting minutes / February 26, 2011 by admin

I collect them.

The great and unusual ones I gently place each in a mason jar. On occasion, I'll toss in a twig, a few glass marbles, and just for luck, a tarnished Indian head penny. Always making sure they can breathe, I carefully puncture five random holes in the lid with a rusty nail and an old wooden handled hammer. Not to large, but not small either.

I'm careful to protect them, because if they die, they may never be mine again.

I collect them.

gravity / February 19, 2011 by admin

There was once a day when I had long hair and drove fast. Today isn't one of those days. I don't know about tomorrow.

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