This Month Mother passed away. It was 4 years ago… Missing her never goes away, loving her grows only stronger. Seeing her in my children in time, she would be so proud and happy for them. Feeling her as her grandson Keagan warms your heart in just who he is, and the child he has become. Time marches on, but footprints never go away. This is written by a friend of mine Paul Kealy… I dedicate this song in memory of my Mother…
“It ain’t over till it’s over”—Yogi Berra (RIP) 90 yrs sold he died 69 years to the day he made his major league debut—Greatest catcher in the history of baseball. “It’s like dejavu all over again”—Yogisms (I repost this today in honor of Yogi Berra
A little boy sits quietly at his deskHe has become unaware of the snapping of the clothes
on the line from the hot Midwest breeze,
the distant trains breaking the sounds as they clack through towns.
He fingers his baseball glove, following his imagination,
of diamonds that glitter from home runs
and glistens from sunsets after loaded bases.
The smell of leather takes him to locker rooms,
sounds of cheers with
the snapping this time of baseball bats hitting the ball.
Symphony sounds that make up dreams
that feed the body and soul of the little boy
at his desk, freckled face; looking past.
Past the ‘Hopalong Cassidy’ lamp sitting on his desk,
past the plaid sheets spreading his bed,
past the books that pile in waiting for homework.
He imagines all sounds real with promises;
“What a home…
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Thinking of Napa and Sonoma today as they battle the fires…
The past did reign , tears
left stain, and the wine flows in
aged apology…
© CMM 2015
Castello de Amorosa
The past did reign , tears
left stain, and the wine flows in
aged apology…
© CMM 2015
Castello de Amorosa
Diverse rich molten soils
erupt into twisted hope
with grape-bulging vines…
© CMM 2015
Napa Valley
Behind aged stone walls,
Italian wine flows as veins
breathed from purple grapes…
© CMM 2015
Napa Valley
Brown ground bakes under
sun’s relentless draught, holds
hostage enduring grapes…
© CMM 2015
A Dream
white moons hang next to one another
bringing heaven’s presence and earthy observer
to notice…
Hanging like large bulbs lighting existence,
closer and closer they merge into one light
colliding …
looking across the way into the darkness
the moon dust falls light on a field of magnificent emerald
green elephants…
they move as though dancing without music,
gracefully they silhouette around the other
peacefully moving…
again I look upon the heavens and the moons
have separated again, white light emerging
toward the other…
cataclysmic they collide once again,
burst into a million stars
the heavens reflect…
Christine McNeill-Matteson
June 2015
Eagle and Child Inkling 